the music industry and popular song in 1930s...

THE MUSIC INDUSTRY AND POPULAR SONG

IN 1930S AND 1940S SHANGHAI

A HISTORICAL AND STYLISTIC ANALYSIS

SZU-WEI CHEN

Submitted for the Degree of Doctor of Philosophy

Department of Film and Media Studies University of Stirling

February 2007

Abstract

In 1930s and 1940s Shanghai, musicians and artists from different cultures and

varied backgrounds joined and made the golden age of Shanghai popular song which

suggests the beginnings of Chinese popular music in modern times. However,

Shanghai popular song has long been neglected in most works about the modern

history of Chinese music and remains an unexplored area in Shanghai studies. This

study aims to reconstruct a historical view of the Shanghai popular music industry and

make a stylistic analysis of its musical products. The research is undertaken at two

levels: first, understanding the operating mechanism of the ‘platform’ and second,

investigating the components of the ‘products’.

By contrasting the hypothetical flowchart of the Shanghai popular music

industry, details of the producing, selling and consuming processes are retrieved from

various historical sources to reconstruct the industry platform. Through the first level

of research, it is found that the rising new media and the flourishing entertainment

industry profoundly influenced the development of Shanghai popular song. In

addition, social and political changes and changes in business practices and the

organisational structure of foreign record companies also contributed to the vast

production, popularity and commercial success of Shanghai popular song.

From the composition-performance view of song creation, the second level of

research reveals that Chinese and Western musical elements both existed in the

musical products. The Chinese vocal technique, Western bel canto and instruments

from both musical traditions were all found in historical recordings. When ignoring

the distinctive nature of pentatonicism but treating Chinese melodies as those on

Western scales, Chinese-style tunes could be easily accompanied by chordal harmony.

However, the Chinese heterophonic feature was lost in the Western accompaniment

texture. Moreover, it is also found that the traditional rules governing the relationship

between words and the melody was dismissed in Shanghai popular songwriting.

The findings of this study fill in the neglected part in modern history of

Chinese music and add to the literature on the under-explored musical area in

Shanghai studies. Moreover, this study also demonstrates that against a map

illustrating how musical products moved from record companies to consumers along

with all other involved participants, the history of popular music can be rediscovered

systematically by using songs as evidence, treating media material carefully and

tracking down archives and surviving participants.

Dedicated to my two late grannies

iv

Acknowledgement

I would like to thank my supervisor Prof Simon Frith for his enduring

guidance and intellectual support throughout the length and breadth of my doctoral

project. Thanks also go to my examiners Dr Philip Drake and Dr Rachel Harris for

their invaluable comments on this thesis and suggestions for future work. I appreciate

the advice on methodological issues from Dr Jacquie L’Tang and suggestions on

musical analysis from Prof Derek Scott, Prof Jonathan Stock and Dr Raymond

Monelle. Special thanks should go to Karen Forrest and Louise Womersley in the

departmental office for the enourmous administrative work they have done. I am

particularly grateful to Rev Maxwell Craig and Mrs Margaret Rodgers for their help

with proofreading and certainly any errors that may still remain are entirely my own.

I would also like to acknowledge the inspiration and intellectual stimulation

from Prof Ricardo Canzio, with whose encouragement I decided to change the course

of my life to pursue formally my interests and passion for music at an academic level.

I am also deeply indebted to Prof Liu Shuen-Zen and his wife and Ass Prof Lin

Hwey-Jane from the Graduate Institute of Accountancy, National Taiwan University,

where I received my MBA, for their support along the journey to the doctorate.

I owe a great deal to those who facilitate my fieldwork in Mainland China.

Prof Chen Gang from the Shanghai Conservatory of Music and Mr Lee Leng Kok

from Singapore kindly helped me to approach informants. I should extend my thanks

to my interviewees, all those elderly ladies and gentlemen in Shanghai who have been

unstintingly generous with their time as well as elderly singers Jin Yi, Wu Yingyin,

Yan Fei and Zhang Fan who shared their memory of old Shanghai pop with me. I

would also like to express my gratitude to the staff of the Modern Document Reading

v

Room of the Shanghai Municipal Library and the Library of the Music Research

Institute of the Chinese Academy of Arts for the pleasant and productive days I spent

there. I am much obliged to so many friends in Shanghai and Beijing, particularly

Jiang Lei, Li Meng, Liu Chuan, Liu Jun, Xu Ming and Zhang Jing, together with my

Chinese opera drum master Mai Xueyi and his family, for their hospitality during my

stay in China. Special thanks go to Sis Mao who fed and looked after me all the time.

Thanks go to the congregation of the Church of the Holy Rude (especially

members of the Church Choir and Music Director Dr John Burnett), members of the

Stirling City Choir and Stirling and Bridge of Allan Operatic Society and gents at my

local, Port Customs Bar, for their fellowship and support in all aspects of life in

Stirling. I am especially grateful for the friendship I developed at the University with

IT Advisor Oron Joffe, my doctoral colleagues Adam Behr, Inez Templeton, Mark

Percival, Martin Duch, Matt Percival, Nicola Scott and Pedro Nunes, and my

Taiwanese compatriots Ellen, Rebecca and Dr Yu Honglin. I would also like to

extend my special thanks to my honorary English sister Francesca Young, my lifelong

friend and soon-to-be best man Dr Lin Yung-Yao, and my patron and alter ego May,

for their everlasting support and encouragement. Thanks also go to Prof John Izod,

Jenny McKay, Dr Mark Brownrigg, Peter Meech and Richard Kilborn who shared

with me their passion for music and life.

The love and support from my family has been unfailing. Thanks must go to

my parents and sister who have stood by me through every trough and peak as well as

to Auntie Christine who offered financial support towards the cost of accommodation

in Shanghai. Last on the list but first in my heart, thanks go to my beloved fiancée

Fan for her faithfulness, patience and everything she has done for me. Finally, I have

earned my PhD and we can now have our Scottish wedding in my church.

vi

Contents

Acknowledgement iv

Notes on Romanisation ix

Chapter One: Introduction 1

I. The legendary image 1

II. How did it start? 4

III. An underrepresented part of the modern Chinese pop history 9

IV. Shanghai popular song as a genre 13

V. Concluding remarks 31

Chapter Two: A Model for Understanding Shanghai Pop 41

I. Rediscovering Shanghai pop 42

II. Level one: reconstruction of the platform 50

III. Level two: analysis of the products 60

Chapter Three: The Society 76

I. The start of modern Shanghai 76

II. Social changes in Shanghai 83

III. New forms of mass entertainment 96

Chapter Four: The Platform 109

I. The producing process 109

1. Record companies 110

2. Composers and lyricists 122

3. Instrumentalists 125

vii

4. Singers 128

II. The selling process 131

1. Agents and promoters 131

2. Publishers 132

3. Retailers 136

4. Film companies 140

5. Radio stations 147

6. Dancehalls 153

7. Regulatory institutions 159

III. The consuming process 164

1. Audience 164

2. The press 174

3. Critics 179

Chapter Five: The Products 201

I. Ethnicity in music 202

II. Chineseness in music 208

1. Musical texture 215

2. Musical scale 218

3. Tones and tunes 222

III. Examining Shanghai popular song 230

1. Singing voice 230

2. Instrumentation 236

3. Melodic content 246

4. Accompanying harmony 255

5. Words 263

viii

Chapter Six: Conclusion 283

I. The rediscovered past 283

II. After the rediscovery 293

Appendix I: Map of Shanghai, 1935 297

Appendix II: Chronology of Shanghai Pop 298

Appendix III: List of Informants 301

Appendix IV: List of Song Examples Cited in the Text 302

Glossary 311

Bibliography 321

Discography 355

ix

Notes on Romanisation

Hanyu Pinyin (‘Scheme of the Chinese phonetic alphabet’) is adopted in this

study for transcribing Chinese proper nouns and publication, movie and song titles,

and Chinese expressions when needed, into the Latin alphabet. Places names are

written in Pinyin despite any other forms of transliteration used in historical

documents, for example Huangpu and Suzhou instead of Whangpoo and Soochow

respectively. Personal names are also written in Pinyin with the exception that author

names in literature are cited as they were originally spelled.

Kunrei-shiki Rômaji (‘Cabinet-ordered romanisation system’) is used for

transcribing Japanese names and movie and song titles.

1

Chapter One

Introduction

Shanghai, once a wonderland for adventurers and a paradise for gold diggers,

has become again the financial centre of China, and it has been claimed that it will be

one of the most important economic centres of the world in the twenty-first century.

However it is argued, the development of Shanghai in the first half of twentieth

century was the epitome of modern China. A considerable number of studies have

been made of the growth, transition and boom of the city over the past decades. In

addition, topics such as the people’s livelihood, cultural interaction, foreign

concessions and so on have been widely discussed.1 Despite this, the popular music

that came into existence and developed in the first half of the last century in Shanghai

remains largely unexplored.

I. The legendary image

Since the British first arrived and began trade and investment in the middle of

the nineteenth century, Shanghai developed steadily and later became so fascinating a

metropolis that it attracted other Europeans as well as people from China’s hinterland.

Although originally Shanghai was only a trade centre, in the early 1930s people from

different cultures and varied backgrounds came to live there and contributed to its

development. The style of music that developed there was later to be known as

Shanghai popular song and was the origin of the modern Chinese popular music

industry. Classically trained White Russian musicians fleeing the October

Revolution, Filipino instrumentalists seeking a better living in other shores, Chinese

Chapter One Introduction

2

composers, vocalists and artists with various performance skills, all contributed to

make the golden age of popular music in Shanghai. Interestingly, this new repertoire

was never sung in the Shanghai dialect but in Mandarin Chinese, and since this city

was the place where the Chinese popular music industry first started, developed and

thrived, they were called Shanghai popular songs. Nightclubs, restaurants, ballrooms,

as well as live broadcasts to homes, were the venues for these songs, but we should

not forget the place they had in films as well. The close cooperation among those

different groups of people and the vast and brilliant production they left behind

suggest the beginnings of Chinese popular music in modern times. However, little

writing emphasises this important point. There is much to be researched about how

varied cultural elements and social forces brought about the success of popular songs

in Shanghai from the early 1930s up to the 1960s.

The first Shanghai popular song, ‘Drizzles’ (Maomao yü), was a tune in a folk

style with four verses using what was considered at the time to be overly familiar

expressions of love, which were not customarily used in public, and was accompanied

by a band playing Western instruments in a rudimentary form of New Orleans jazz.

In a historical recording, this song was sung by a young girl with a high-pitched and

untrained voice, sounding like ‘strangling cat’ (niesi mao) and to most of us today,

perhaps, unpleasantly harsh.2 However, the commercial success of this tentative

combination encouraged its producer to write more pieces in the same format and

thereafter involved more musicians and artists in the task. In the ensuing two

decades, diverse musical elements were integrated into Shanghai popular songs such

as non-Chinese melodic, elegant, literary lyrics, as well varied rhythms and a richer

instrumentation.


3

People could now hear the blue notes of jazz and the Western scale

interwoven with pentatonic strains and folk tunes. Refined phrases and poetic

expressions of longing for a better life and the inclusion of incisive views towards

social phenomena, together with romantic clichés in colloquial language, went to

produce sophisticated lyrics. The arrangements were marked by the strong pulsation

of tango, rumba and foxtrot, and the string-dominated sounds in the Hollywood-

Broadway tradition presented by a big band or by studio orchestras, as well as simple

chordal harmony or regular beats delivered by a couple of Chinese fiddles and

percussion. These Eastern and Western musical elements were fused in a

harmonically balanced fashion, and so the classic Haipai (‘Shanghai style’ or

‘Shanghai school’) of Chinese popular music came into existence.3

Attractive as this music was, Shanghai popular song declined after the advent

of the Chinese Communist regime when most foreign organisations were forced to

leave or taken over. With the whole entertainment industry moving to Hong Kong,

Shanghai popular song continued to thrive for another ten years, but the style

gradually changed to become practically unrecognisable by the end of the 1960s.

Thanks to a small group of enthusiastic supporters in Hong Kong and Taiwan,

together with those from the overseas Chinese communities in Southeast Asia, some

elderly artists continue to appear on stage and are still popular among audiences who

feel nostalgic for the past. Shanghai popular song is known in Hong Kong as shidai

qu (‘song of the times’) or in Taiwan as guoyu laoge (‘Mandarin Chinese old song’)

and is now usually heard in a small number of nostalgic radio or TV programmes and

played on special occasions such as concerts, enthusiasts’ reunion events and

festivals. The elegant lyrics and charming melodies still elicit admiration among

many today.


4

In recent years, while some amateurs have set about collecting these now

classical songs in the form of recordings and sheet music, others are writing down life

accounts of the artists. However, what seems to be lacking is both a study of how

Western and Chinese musical elements mingled and created a new era in the history

of Chinese music, and a full discussion of the interaction between the musical

elements which made up the characteristic style of Shanghai popular songs.

II. How did it start?

With the prosperity came the need for a variety of entertainment in which

musical sounds played an important role. In the 1930s Shanghai was a metropolis

famous for its nightlife and cabarets which outnumbered those of any other city in

China. There were American, Filipino, Russian, Indian and other Oriental bands

playing American jazz, ballroom dance music or Chinese popular songs in different

venues. There were the theme songs of Chinese films and the songs played during the

intermission, which not only captivated the audiences in the cinema but also often

took the whole of Shanghai by storm and were sung in nightclubs and broadcast over

the airwaves. Besides dance and cinema, people in Shanghai would attend regular

concerts given by the Shanghai Municipal Council Symphony Orchestra, which was

the first symphony orchestra started in East Asia. The programmes included

European classical music and special performances for children held in theatres,

together with outdoor orchestral concerts and brass band marches held in public

parks.4 Those who preferred traditional Chinese music rather than a Western style

performance might go to a Chinese theatre to listen to Beijing opera or other regional

opera styles or might attend social occasions that favoured the instrumental


5

repertoire.5 Those with a penchant for political issues could go to the conventions

called by the Nationalist Party (Kuomintang, KMT) where newly composed songs

based on the style of school songs (xuetang yuege) were sung by the participants.6

They could also join the rallies organised by the leftist and sing the mass songs heard

in films or specially composed by leftist musicians and writers.7

Almost all the kinds of musical sounds in Shanghai described above could be

heard even without being there in person. It was a period of explosive growth for

Shanghai’s wireless broadcasting industries in the early 1930s and about half of the

radio stations of China were established in this metropolitan area.8 Thus it was easy

to pick up the swing of American jazz, the high-pitched tunes of Beijing opera or the

latest film theme songs by simply tuning the knob of a radio. Another popular means

to access those sounds was the gramophone record. The first record company in

China, Pathé Orient, was established in 1908 with its first released recordings of

Beijing opera. After a series of mergers and acquisitions between those record

companies which owned subsidiaries in China, there were three major record

companies operating in Shanghai, which included two transnational capital controlled

companies, Pathé-EMI and RCA-Victor, and one Chinese-owned company, Great

China, operated in Shanghai. These majors recorded a wide range of Chinese

operatic, folk and popular songs with their own contracted artists, studios and

equipment and sold their records in China as well as promoted them to the overseas

Chinese. In the meantime, a host of local owned ‘pocketbook company’ (pibao

gongsi), most of which specialised in traditional genres and catered to regional

markets in different areas, negotiated recording contracts with local or regional

musicians, and rented studios and manufacturing time from the majors to produce

their records.


6

Among these kinds of music that could be heard in Shanghai, two types of

songs are worthy of attention: popular song and leftist mass song. Seemingly, they

were both hybrid genres and composed with already existing musical materials that

one could hear in Shanghai as early as the 1920s, such as American jazz, the latest

dance music, traditional Chinese melodies and European folk songs. However, to

Chinese listeners living in the 1930s, these songs were, on the one hand, brand-new

because of the unprecedented pleasure they afforded and, on the other, controversial

for their close relation with genü (‘sing-song girls’) and with political issues such as

national identity, anti-feudalism and anti-imperialism.9

The creation of popular song could be traced to the early 1920s when a

Chinese musician, Li Jinhui, began to compose children’s musicals and established

the Bright Moon Ensemble (Mingyue yinyuehui) to play his compositions as well as to

produce gramophone records. Li devoted himself to creating works with a view to

instilling the next generation with the spirit of humanist enlightenment, anti-feudalism

and nationalism, and to promoting the use of the official language, Mandarin Chinese.

He began composing in 1921 when he was invited to teach in the Shanghai National

Language Institute (Shanghai guoyu zhuanxiu xuexiao). He wrote several short

musical dramas in standard Mandarin Chinese for the pupils of the primary school

attached to this institute and organised a group in the school to perform these works.

In 1923, he published the first of eleven children’s musicals in instalments in a

children’s weekly magazine. With the enthusiasm and ambition to create a new

approach to training youngsters in music and dance, in 1926 he established the China

Song-and-Dance Institute (Zhonghua gewu zhuanmen xuexiao) but it was shut down

after just one year due to lack of funds. Nevertheless, with the financial support of a


7

friend, he set up another institution, the All Beauty Girls’ School (Meimei nüxiao) in

1927 and continued his training programme.

In order to re-establish his former song-and-dance institute, he reorganised the

school into the China Song-and-Dance Troupe (Zhonghua gewutuan) in 1928 and

started to tour Southeast Asia to raise more funds. Unfortunately, the tour did not

succeed financially. Thus, Li’s music style changed in 1929 when he found himself

stranded in Singapore due to financial difficulties following the overseas

performances of his troupe. He heard the news from Shanghai concerning the

commercial success of the songbook containing several love songs he had written

originally for the tour, and turned to the creation of love songs so that he could earn

travelling fees to go back and raise capital for the institute. Finally he submitted a

batch of love songs, including the famous ‘The River of Peach Blossom’ (Taohua

jiang) and ‘The Express Train’ (Tebie kuaiche), to the same publisher and then

returned to Shanghai. By then his feeling for children’s musicals had gone and

sentimental affairs were his new subject matter.

From that time onwards, a large number of love songs were created using a

variety of styles, including jazz, Hollywood film music or Chinese pentatonic scales,

together with lyrics in classical Chinese love poems or romantic clichés of Tin Pan

Alley, and thus began the era of Shanghai popular song. Besides love songs, Li also

composed a few theme songs for Chinese sound films (motion pictures of

synchronised sound). With the growth of the broadcasting industry, the availability of

gramophone records and the popularity of sound films, these popular songs reached

almost every cinema, store, street corner and home. Many outstanding female

performers who graduated from the institutes created by Li or came from some of the

troupes he had founded also had stage careers in broadcasting, recording and in films.


8

In the late 1930s several members of Li’s famous Bright Moon Song-and-Dance

Troupe (Mingyue gewutuan) established by Li when he returned to Shanghai in 1930,

and several Chinese musicians, also devoted themselves to the composition of popular

songs. These composers included Xu Ruhui, Yan Hua (member of Li’s troupe), Li

Jinguang (Li’s younger brother and member of his troupe) and Chen Gexin (a

conservatory-trained composer and lyricist). 10 It was Li who triggered the

development of Shanghai popular songs, and his training institutes and song-and-

dance troupes brought to prominence a host of stars who dominated the entertainment

industry in Shanghai from the 1930s to 1940s.

Popular and successful as these songs were, they were inexorably criticised by

leftists and Nationalists as ‘decadent sounds’ (mimi zhi yin) or ‘yellow music’

(huangse yinyue). Apart from the explosive growth of entertainment industry, the

1930s also witnessed Western imperialism, a sequence of territorial encroachments

and the military attack of the Japanese on China. Since Shanghai popular song was

closely linked to the seamy demimonde and the capital-controlled commercial

activities, together with their glamourised female stars, it was regarded as poison to

the Chinese people and ‘a capitulation to commerce at the expense of the imperative

of national salvation’.11

A leftist young man, Nie Er, former student of Li Jinhui who studied music

under the patronage of the Bright Moon Song-and-Dance Troupe, published a series

of critical articles on the decadence of Li’s popular music. He sought to create a new

form of popular music that would stimulate and inspire the masses. Instead of the

love poems and romantic clichés found in Li’s popular songs, Nie Er tried to speak

out on behalf of the masses in choral works based on didactic school songs, inspired

by Soviet-style mass music and military marches, with lyrics dealing with themes


9

derived from his firsthand experience of the lives of workers, farmers, exploited

children and soldiers on the anti-Japan front.12 He used to work in collaboration with

other leftist musicians and writers, such as Ren Guang, Tian Han and An E, who

produced films showing the hard living conditions of ordinary people and

encouraging the masses to fight for the future of the nation. Nie’s musical works

were thus widely circulated through films and later made into gramophone records.

They were often distinguished from popular songs and referred to as ‘mass songs’ due

to the different message they were meant to deliver. However, as these songs had a

connection with the entertainment industry in the sense that they were disseminated

through existing media, they were equally admired by some of the audience who were

fascinated by whatever songs on radio, records or in films.

Therefore, the 1930s saw two types of songs which were created by the re-

arrangement of existing materials: popular song and mass song. Both reached people

through the same technology and media of entertainment. The spirit of mass song

became the origin of Chinese communist revolutionary song which played a leading

role in Mainland China until the late 1970s, whilest popular song, the subject of this

study, however criticised, took Shanghai, or even the whole China, by storm from the

early 1930s and thrived in Hong Kong for another decade after 1949.

III. An underrepresented part of the modern Chinese pop history

Originating in the late 1920s and early 1930s and developing through the

1930s to 1940s as the product of the interaction between Chinese and Western

musical elements, Chinese popular music and its producers in the Shanghai era are

seldom mentioned in the modern history of Chinese music. Most documentation of


10

and research into China’s musical activities under Western influence through the first

half of the twentieth century focuses on the reformation of education, composition

and performance led by intellectuals and musicians within academies. Whilst mass

songs, art songs, choral works and their composers are viewed seriously and discussed

in detail by academics, popular songs are mentioned casually or even omitted in most

works about the modern history of Chinese music. In a textbook of the history of

Chinese contemporary music, Li Jinhui’s contribution to children’s musicals is

recognised, but none of his musicals for song-and-dance troupes nor the popular

songs composed later in his life are mentioned. Except for Li, no other composers or

artists involved in popular music are discussed. In another article about the

development of Chinese music in the first half of the twentieth century, Wang

mentions Li Jinhui as the pioneer of Chinese entertainment music, and considers that

the works written by him and his contemporaries deeply influenced the popular song

styles in Hong Kong and Taiwan later in the twentieth century.13 Recently there have

been some academic work on Chinese popular music which also features both

Chinese and Western musical elements, yet those works focus mainly on yaogun

yinyue (Chinese ‘rock ’n’ roll music’) produced after the 1980s when the Communist

China opened again its gate to the West rathern than on popular songs creataed in the

1930s and 1940s before the advent of the Communist regime.14

Whilst popular song is not usually taken seriously in the history of Chinese

music, several enthusiasts have examined its origins and written down life stories of

composers and artists and their representative works. Liu Xing traces the beginning

of Chinese popular music back to Li’s musicals before the coming of sound films and

reviews the works of several composers and lyricists from then on to the late 1970s,

including those active after 1949 in Hong Kong and Taiwan. Liu Gouwei also


11

considers Li the father of Chinese popular song. Furthermore, he divides the

development of Chinese popular song into three stages, the eras of Shanghai, Hong

Kong and Taiwan and analyses the dissemination of popular song through radio

broadcasts, sound films and television programmes. Wong Kee-Chee argues that the

style of Shanghai popular songs, as well as those produced later in Hong Kong, is

unique and different from that of the Chinese songs written later in Taiwan. He also

indicates that these ‘authentic songs of the times’ declined in popularity after the

1960s.15 Besides these works, facts and figures about Chinese popular song can also

be found in the biographies and the memoirs of stars and in some compilations of

articles which include anecdotes about historic events based upon the author’s own

recollections. In a collection of several articles originally written for newspapers,

Shuijing discusses composers, lyricists and artists in the Shanghai era together with

their styles, and recounts several interviews with some elderly directors and singers.16

Though without a systematic approach, he also talks about the lyrical content and the

patterns of accompaniment, based on the lyrics and melodies he remembered.

Apart from the literature about the development of Shanghai popular songs, it

is not until the pioneering work of Andrew F. Jones that the relation between popular

songs and the formation of media culture in China in the 1930s has been discussed.

While conventional critiques stress that ‘the original innocence of Li Jinhui’s early

nationalistic efforts to promote children’s education is besmirched by his later descent

into the tawdry world of commercial media culture,’ Jones recognises the fact that

‘Li’s contribution to Chinese media culture was just as complex and ambivalent as

those of his leftist counterparts’, who were later enshrined as revolutionary heroes in

the communist pantheon.17 Although derogated as decadent and pornographic music

solely because of the form of performance in which the voices, images and personal


12

lives of mass-mediated females were consumed, Jones believes that Li created a new

musical idiom. It is, on the one hand, a renegotiation of jazz music in national terms

without entirely dispensing with the pentatonic markers of Chinese national character

and, on the other hand, a new culture formed within an emerging transnational

economy of musical production and consumption. However, rather than examining

musical features in detail, Jones only roughly describes Shanghai popular songs as

fusion of American jazz, Hollywood film music and Chinese folk forms. Moreover,

all musical works he mentioned were composed no later than 1937, the year in which

the Sino-Japanese War began, and there are more works created after 1937 to be

discussed.

Recently, the rapid growth of the economy in Shanghai reminds the Chinese

people of the past days of prosperity in this metropolis. A series of reissues of

Shanghai popular songs have drawn the attention of the public and mark a revival of

and nostalgia for these songs. In Mainland China, two sets of cassettes – a two-

cassette set in 1985 and then another four-cassette one in 1993 – have been issued by

the state-run China Record Company (Zhongguo changpian gongsi). As Jonathan

Stock comments in an article, in which he compares the social and political

backgrounds of the releases of these two sets, once criticised as unhealthy, these

songs are now considered the rich and colourful national heritage of popular music of

earlier times by the Chinese authorities, although the songs reissued were selected

carefully. Strong consciousness of regional identity in China may provide an

explanation for these reissues. To people in Shanghai today, these popular songs can

be taken both as a symbol of cultural independence and as a token of the rehabilitated

past of this thriving commercial city.18


13

In 1992 and the ensuing five years, EMI (Hong Kong) also released a series of

audio CDs which collect a great number of historical recordings from those originally

produced by EMI (China) in Shanghai before 1949 and those in Hong Kong after the

record company moved there to the late 1960s. Despite the original plan to issue one

hundred volumes, this series has been stopped for commercial reasons after the fifty-

ninth instalment was released. More compilations of historical recordings were

produced subsequently by EMI (Malaysia) from 2000 onwards. A step farther in

Southeast Asia, a Singaporean gramophone record collector, Lee Leng Kok, has been

trying to restore historical recordings and so far has published six audio CDs since

2000. Using an advanced audio restoration system, re-mastering the aged recordings

and removing unwanted noise from old gramophone records, he makes it possible for

us to experience the original aural effect. Though circulated mainly within a limited

circle of supporters and fans, the reissue or restoration of historical recordings of

Shanghai popular songs by Chinese people in different regions provides valuable

source material for musicological analyses and further research.

IV. Shanghai popular song as a genre

Shanghai popular song, from the 1930s to 1940s, includes songs which had

been deeply influenced by Western musical elements as well as those which were still

composed and performed in traditional Chinese style. Listeners in Shanghai during

this era might have encountered these pieces day and night in wireless broadcast

programmes, in films, in cabarets, in the humming of people in the street or through

gramophone record playing. Although today people categorise music that is

commercially promoted by mainstream record companies and consumed in great


14

amounts by fans as ‘popular’, these songs were not referred to as ‘popular’ by people

at that time. These songs were first referred to as ‘new song of the times’ or

‘contemporary song’ and these terms could be seen on copies of sheet music, the

covers of songbooks or in contemporary entertainment magazines released in the

1930s. Words such as ‘social’ in English and ‘shidai’ (‘of the times’) in Chinese can

also be found on the labels of some records.19 Since jazz or other Western style bands

were employed to accompany the singing and, in contrast with the traditional

repertoire, these songs were new creations, terms such as ‘jazz song’ or ‘modern

song’ were later on widely used. In the light of the usage of these terms, it appears

that listeners, publishers and editors had somehow recognised and treated these songs

as a specific category distinct from those they considered traditional or folk, such as

operatic arias, ballads or short simple strains.

Even today, these songs, generally known as ‘song of the times’ (rather than

‘new’ songs) or ‘Mandarin Chinese old song,’ are located in a reserved category. For

example, in record shops, albums of Shanghai old songs are often shelved together;

when young pop stars try to reinterpret Zhou Xuan’s hits on TV, elderly fans usually

criticise them severely for their inauthentic style and the inappropriate

accompaniment; when a radio programme plays 1960s Mandarin Chinese classics

which were produced in Hong Kong, it is possible to recognise the taste of old

Shanghai. We can then say that it is the style and form in which these songs were

performed that made them unique and thus easily differentiated from the Chinese

popular music prevailing nowadays.

How can listeners today and those who lived in Shanghai at the time tell these

songs from other concurrently existing repertoires? What is the uniqueness of

Chinese popular music in the Shanghai era and how can these songs be regarded as a


15

specific category of music by the Chinese? In the second half of the introductory

chapter, the concept of musical genre will be applied to begin a preliminary analysis

of the characteristics of this repertoire. Genre categories are nowadays widely used as

a way of organising the music making, selling and consuming processes. In line with

these preset categories, all the participants in the music market – performers,

producers, shopkeepers, consumers and critics – have an idea in mind of the aural and

visual effects they should expect when coming across certain categories of music.20

Nevertheless, genre can also be an elusive term, neither a textual essence nor a

comprehensive code, because no text will have all the traits of the genre to which it

belongs nor are particular texts precisely identical with the categories in which they

are included.21 Even so, as the formation of a genre is based upon a set of accepted

rules that qualify the authenticity of the musical events making up that genre, it is

useful to examine systematically what general features Shanghai popular songs have,

according to Franco Fabbri’s five groups of genre rules.22

1. Formal and technical rules

The first group contains rules of musical form and playing conventions, the

rules most discussed in musicological literature dealing with genres. From the

melodic and harmonic point of view, traditional Chinese operas and folk songs are

based mainly on pentatonic scales together with some so-called ‘altered notes’ out of

the pentatonic scale and thus has a distinctive identity. Moreover, in Chinese

thinking, a pentatonic scale is already a representation of harmony and therefore, to

Western ears, traditional Chinese music lacks complex harmonies and is always

played in unison.23 Some of Shanghai popular songs sound quite traditional because

their melodies are inspired by or extracted from folk tunes or story-telling ballads.


16

For example, Zhou Xuan’s ‘The Wandering Songstress’ (Tianya genü) is derived

from tanci (a traditional story-telling performance originated in Suzhou) and ‘Betel

Nut Picking’ (Cai binglang) is adapted from folk dance music of Hunan. However,

more Western elements can be observed in other newly composed works. In addition

to traditional scales and melody contours, there is frequent use of chromatisms, the

blue notes of American jazz, and the application of Western compositional techniques

such as recurring motifs, augmentations and modulations from the tonic key of a song

to its relative minor or major. Gong Qiuxia’s ‘Roses Blooming Everywhere’

(Qiangwei chuchu kai) is a good case where the first section is in the major pentatonic

scale without any altered tone, but it is then modulated into its relative minor in the

second section featuring the raised leading tone. It can also be noticed that melodies

or cadences are arranged in accordance with the progressions of European harmony,

and instrumental introductions and intermezzi are played in part harmony.

From the rhythmic point of view, though both Chinese folk songs and

Shanghai popular songs are usually in the 2/4 or 4/4 metre, with accents in odd-

numbered beats, there are several popular songs composed in the 3/4 metre and

performed in the form of a waltz but few in the 6/8 time of European folk dance.

Some songs were originally written in syncopated rhythms with a flavour of

American jazz, whereas others just remained plain in rhythm, close to the style of

Chinese folk songs. Due to their relationship with ballroom dance culture in

Shanghai, more rhythmic variations can be heard in the musical accompaniments of

these popular songs than in folk music. Since these songs were arranged to be

danced, they often took the form of modern dance numbers which prevailed in

dancehalls or cabarets at that time, such as tango, rumba, waltz and foxtrot. For

example, Bai Guang’s ‘Lingering Dreams’ (Hunying jiumeng) and Zhou Xuan’s


17

‘Recalling My Husband’ (Yi liangren) are famous tangos; in Bai Guang’s ‘Autumn

Night’ (Qiuye) and Ouyang Feiying’s ‘Shangri-La’ (Xianggelila) we can hear the

rhythm of rumba. As for waltz, while Bai Hong’s ‘Dance of Spring’ (Chun zhi wuqu)

is a Viennese waltz, Zhou Xuan’s ‘Good Night’ (Wan’an qu) is a slow one. The well-

known piece ‘Rose, Rose, I Love You’ (Meigui meigui wo ai ni) sung by Yao Li is

arranged as a foxtrot.24 There are also a great number of rhythmic patterns in

traditional Chinese music, but they belong solely to the performance of percussion

instruments and have little to do with melodies or any dancing step.

It goes without saying that traditional Chinese operas and folk songs are

performed with or accompanied by traditional instruments, but these instruments are

also used in Shanghai popular songs to give them a traditional flavour. A typical

combination of Chinese instruments, widely used in the accompaniment of ballad

singing or Beijing opera, contains a huqin (two-string bowed instrument), a sanxian

(three-string plucked instrument) and a drummer’s kit consisting of a pair of clappers

and a drum. When accompanying a song, the instrumental line usually follows the

vocal line in unison with some ornamental variation and fill-in melodies between

vocal phrases. Zhou Xuan’s ‘The Wandering Songstress’ and Wu Yingyin’s ‘Spring

Sadness’ (Duanchang hong) are examples representative of this combination and

accompanying style. However, the use of Western instruments in varied

combinations is one of the most fascinating features in most Shanghai popular songs.

Among a wide range of combinations, some are small groups similar to those of the

bands in New Orleans jazz, using a ‘front-line of melodic’ instruments, such as a

trumpet, a clarinet or a violin which might play a fill-in solo phrase, and other

‘rhythmic-harmonic backing’ instruments, such as a piano, string bass and drums.

The earliest Shanghai popular song, ‘Drizzles’ (Maomaoyu), and two late-thirties


18

works, Yao Li’s ‘Lovesickness for Sale’ (Mai xiangsi) and Zhang Fan’s ‘Party Time’

(Manchang fei), for instance, are accompanied by bands of this sort. There were also

larger bands which were comparable to chamber orchestras, such as those string-

dominated studio orchestras in Hollywood and Broadway or as those big bands of the

swing era with expanded brass, reed and rhythm sections.25 The lush arrangements

and sonorous sounds of such an array of instruments can be heard in, to give a few

examples, Li Xianlan’s ‘Evening Fragrance’ (Yelaixiang), Bai Hong’s ‘Goodbye

Shasha’ (Shasha zaihui ba) and Ouyang Feiying’s ‘Misty Rain’ (Yu mengmeng).

As for the technical capacity of instrumentalists playing in the bands for

Shanghai popular songs, it is believed that they had to follow music scores

orchestrated by the arrangers when accompanying a singer, but it is not clear if they

were expected to improvise as American jazzmen did in the fill-in instrumental solo

phrases. It is also known that White Russian classical musicians and Filipino

instrumentalists were both notable and competent at jazz or Euro-American style

music in recording sessions or nightclubs or cabarets, but little is known about

Chinese instrumentalists. A famous elderly lyricist, Chen Dieyi, remembers that there

was no formal or in-house traditional Chinese musical band, or not famous enough to

be remembered, and anyone who played huqin might be hired to form a pickup

band.26 Perhaps it required more members and close collaboration among them to

organise a Western musical band, but two or three players were enough to accompany

the singing with Chinese instruments, and it was thus not necessary for record

companies to maintain large traditional Chinese bands.

From the vocal point of view, because the singers in the Shanghai era came

from different backgrounds, two major singing styles existed at the same time in

Shanghai popular songs. Some vocalists were naturally talented and learned to sing


19

by themselves, such as Yao Li and Wu Yingyin; some were trained in song-and-dance

troupes, such as Bai Hong, Zhou Xuan and Gong Qiuxia; and others, such as Ouyang

Feiying, Qu Yunyun and Li Xianglan, received formal musical training from private

tutors.27 Generally speaking, the nasal, high-pitched voice and the melismatic phrases

used in traditional operas or folk songs can be heard in most historical recordings of

Shanghai popular songs, while a deeper, more open-throated singing approach or a

style like European bel canto or coloratura soprano, can also be found in several

gramophone records. However, some singers changed the manner in which they sang

several years after their first appearance as their voices became more mature or they

tried to interpret songs in a different way. For example, compared to the immature

and strident voice in ‘Lovesickness for Sale’ released in 1937, Yao Li had developed

into a warm, rich and elegant style ten years later in ‘A Broken Heart’ (Yike poxin)

recorded in 1948. While Bai Hong interpreted ‘Crazy Musical Band’ (Fengkuang

yuedui) in a traditional Chinese approach, she intimated a coloratura soprano style in

‘Enchanting Lipstick’ (Zuiren de kouhong).

More interestingly, in traditional Chinese operas or folk songs both genders

participate in singing, but most of Shanghai popular songs in historical recordings

were sung by female performers. Male performers often served as characters who

were secondary in importance to the main female role in duets and choruses, or as

vocalists for backing harmonies. Though some male singers also made their own

recordings, such as Yao Min, Yan Hua and classically trained Sheng Jialun, Huang

Feiran, overall, they left behind considerably fewer works than their female

counterparts.

As with the singing style, when looking at the rules governing lyrics we find

that there is more than one lyrical form in these popular songs, including classical


20

Chinese texts, refined literary language and vernacular expressions. The language

style of a song depends on its lyricist. As the lyricists of popular songs in the

Shanghai era usually came from the ranks of scholars, writers (Fan Yanqiao), film

directors (Hu Xinling, Wu Cun) and journalists (Chen Dieyi), and most of them were

well educated and open to the new culture or brought up with training in classical

literature, it is explicable that such different uses of language should have existed. In

general, the lyrics of most songs draw on the vernacular idioms and phrases

originating from classical works or words only used in writing, and thus the free-form

composition of lyrics is similar to what was then called the ‘new poems’ (xinshi).28 A

number of them are written in a more literary way with classical words and regular

metre, while at the other end of the spectrum some are totally colloquial. The lyrics

of Zhou Xuan’s film song ‘The Little Nuptial Chamber’ (Xiaoxiao dongfang) were

written in a classical poetic form by the director, with eight lines in total and seven

words in each line, whereas those of Qu Yunyun’s ‘Young Lady In A Pedicab’

(Sanlunche shang de xiaojie) were in plain vernacular without any classical idioms or

refined words. Interestingly enough, in whatever language a song may be couched, it

is possible to find in its lyrics intimate expressions that may be frowned upon if

uttered in public.29

To sum up, from the point of view of the overall form, Shanghai popular songs

mainly use the pentatonic scale with variations based on Western compositional

techniques, mostly sung by female singers in nasal, high-pitched voices, and

accompanied by bands featuring Western instruments and arrangements in European-

American style. It was a new sound for the audience at that time, and for us today

constitutes a particular performance style. However, there were also pieces composed


21

in traditional scales, performed in the style of story-telling ballads and accompanied

with Chinese instruments.

2. Semiotic rules

The second group of rules refer to the ways in which the meaning of a song is

conveyed. While to us today, discussing Chinese popular music of the Shanghai era,

these popular songs can be regarded as a musical product which emerged in a

particular social context when traditional Chinese culture met Western entertainment,

to those living in the 1930s to 1940s in Shanghai or other areas in China, these

modern songs portrayed an imaginary world beyond the hard reality of the country at

the time – the encroachment of the Japanese and Western imperialists.

From the point of view of textual strategy, although the true intention of the

composers, lyricists or performers of these Shanghai popular songs is not clear, what

we can see in these texts is not only fantasy but representation of the real world in

which listeners at the time could find themselves. Songs express sentiments that can

be perceived as the listeners’ own feelings, describe events that can take place in the

listeners’ everyday life, and draw pictures of a wonderland that listeners might yearn

for. For example, the lyrics of Zhou Xuan’s ‘Recalling My Husband’ (Yi liangren)

(liangren, ‘husband’, or literally ‘good man’) read:

My husband is on the way to the long march

My husband is at the vanguard on the main road

May spring wind send my regards

May spring wind bring him endless happiness


22

The ‘good man’ could be any Chinese woman’s husband at the front of the Sino-

Japanese War and these words could represent the heartfelt wishes of any Chinese

soldier’s wife.

A close look at various themes in the lyrical contents will show that, for a

wide range of listeners, the principal communicative purpose of Shanghai popular

songs is an emotional one. Sentimental affairs and topics stressing the pleasure of the

moment are common subjects in most songs, although the lyrical contents of

Shanghai popular songs cover a broad range of issues. Generally, we can see several

typical events, such as the dialogue or monologue of courtship, conjugal bliss, the

pang of pain of separated young couples, the sorrow of unrequited love or

lovesickness, and the desire for affection in this transitory life. In addition to

romantic love between couples, there are songs dealing with family or filial love,

including subjects such as gratitude for parental love, family reunion, and nostalgia

for the homeland during endless wanderings. Compared to romantic love songs, these

are usually direct descriptions of events without too many metaphors or double

meanings.

Apart from sentiments, ordinary people’s livelihood is another theme in

popular songs. In lyrics we may find portrayals of farmers’ work, young girls picking

tea leaves, people preparing for a wedding, a description of a fishermen’s typical day

or the beauty and plenty of the land. We may also come across accounts of a broken

homeland, of people starving and drifting aimlessly, of homelessness and of dreams

of paradise while living in misery. We find incisive views on social phenomena, such

as criticism of reckless youth squandering a fortune, the seamy side of the city’s

nightlife or social inequality. In contrast to these songs full of grumbling and

discontent, those calling for the salvation of the nation or service to society are more


23

positive and constructive. Good examples of this are songs about the coming of

spring or of the Chinese New Year with expectations of riches and a better life.

Whether these events are described directly in plain words or abundantly with

metaphors, the lyrics are often filled with colourful descriptions of natural scenery, as

they have been in many vernacular and literary works. These images may be taken

merely as part of the story, serving as a backdrop to create an atmosphere, but

sometimes they may be used to suggest something through their metaphoric meanings

conventionally perceived in Chinese society. The seasons, wild life, the weather,

celestial bodies and the landscape appear again and again. Spring is frequently used

to suggest the revival of nature and the experience of romantic love. Some songs

praise the bounty of spring and encourage people to cherish it and work

enthusiastically, while others appeal to couples in love. Autumn and winter are

usually taken as symbols of depression, solitude and hardship.

Wildlife, such as birds, butterflies, fish and flowers are widely used in songs

and each of them has its traditional meaning in Chinese society. Mandarin ducks,

swallows, butterflies in couples or a pair of phoenix usually symbolise conjugal bliss;

a swallow departing South or a nightingale calling at night can be associated with

unrequited love and lovesickness; fish swimming in water implies the joy of

intercourse. The bird metaphor is equivocal and may be contradictory in different

contexts. For example, a flock of swallows or orioles are sometimes regarded as a

scene of prosperity and sometimes perceived as a horde of women, even, derogatorily,

as flirtatious women. As for plants, the peach flower is customarily synonymous with

women but ‘peaches and plums’ refer to students, especially those who have

graduated; a willow by the riverside is a poetic image, but ‘flower and willow’ is a

euphemistic expression for indiscreet behaviour and promiscuity. Roses, though rare


24

in traditional Chinese literature, are common in popular songs and can be interpreted

as the female protagonist in the love narrative or as romantic love itself.

Wind, rain, cloud and fog are common metaphoric images for obstructions and

gloom, but they may connote different things in works of literature and in popular

songs alike. A spring breeze can be interpreted as a touch of freshness in the air and

announces the advent of prosperity, but it can also be seen as the stirrings of love. A

girl waiting for a spring breeze suggests her longing for love. ‘Rain and cloud’ are

associated with sex, and raining with man’s ejaculation. Sun, moon and stars and

land features such as rivers, lakes and hills, are normally used in a straightforward

way as backdrops for the narrative. However, ‘blue sky and bright sun’ and ‘red sun’

might be politically associated with the Nationalist and the Communist parties,

respectively, due to the colour and design of the flags of the two parties.

Since Shanghai popular songs were often played in dancehalls and served as

dance music no matter for what purpose or in what context they were created,

questions are raised as to the meaning of these songs to the hostesses and their

clientele in Shanghai. What was conveyed to these people beyond the rhythmic

pulses accompanying dance steps? How did people feel about the sentiments, events

and images pictured in these songs? For example, Bai Hong’s ‘No Rain, No Red

Flowers’ (Yu busa hua hua buhong) reads:

You are a dragon in the sky

I am a bunch of flowers on earth

If the dragon does not turn his body over, there is no rain

If rainwater does not sprinkle over the flowers, the flowers do not turn red


25

In contrast to its monstrous image of something formidable or baneful to Western

people, the dragon is conventionally in Chinese society a symbol of the male, of the

monarch, and hence of power and wealth. Besides, according to Chinese myths, ‘the

Dragon King of East Sea’ (donghai longwang) is the deity in charge of rainfall, and it

depends on his mood as to whether there is enough rain for plants to thrive on earth.

The allusion presented in the words of this song may, on the one hand, create a picture

of how a vulnerable girl needs a powerful man’s careful attention, but on the other

hand imply sexual intercourse in line with the aforementioned raining as a sign of

ejaculation. However, except for these inferences from the usage of metaphor, there

is no further proof of how these words might be perceived by a man and the taxi

dancer in his arms at a cabaret in Shanghai.30 It is thus not clear whether the

connotative messages conveyed by the songwriter were received by the listeners.

As for the relationship between performers and audience, because not

everyone in Shanghai at that time could afford to attend a live performance in the

cabaret or to dance with the accompaniment of a band and singers in a dancehall,

Shanghai popular songs spread to ordinary people mainly through radio broadcast

programmes and gramophone records. Thus most of the audience received these

popular songs as disembodied sound, mediated through records, radio and films rather

than as a face-to-face musical experience. The most common approach through

which the unseen singers could come to the gaze of their fans was by printed

materials, such as copies of sheet music, gossip tabloids and celebrity pictorials where

their portrayals or photos were shown. Another economical and popular way to

access these songs and singers was by going to the cinema, where people were able to

enjoy the latest songs through high-quality speakers, while at the same time they

could watch the look and demeanour of their favourite artists on the screen. Some


26

cinemagoers even went to watch the same film several times because they were

fascinated by the songs and wanted to listen to them again.31 As a result, although

some songs were exclusively written for the screen, with their lyrical contents adapted

to the narrative and the musical settings arranged in harmony with the plot, other

songs, not necessarily relevant to the scenes in films, were added as a publicity stunt

in order to promote the films.

3. Behavioural rules

The third group of rules cover performance rituals on and off the stage and

apply both to artists and to audiences. Due to the lack of firsthand knowledge of the

type of audience that these popular songs catered for, as well as the relationship

between audience and performers, it is not clear which were the rules of conversation

and codified etiquette current in the popular music scene in the Shanghai era, such as

the appropriate behaviour of performers in interviews, the proper response to gossip

on magazines, and the guidelines for the spectators during live performances.

According to Yao Li, one of the living elderly singers once active both in

Shanghai and Hong Kong, most people at the time would pay more attention to the

singing than to the singer’s appearance. When giving a live performance in

dancehalls, she was always in qipao (Manchurian-style female long gown) and never

wore any makeup because people usually closed their eyes and just listened to her

songs.32 Nevertheless, Yao Li did not mention whether audiences then applaud

loudly, shouted ‘bravo’ (hao), encouraged the singer in any other way or even

behaved in a manner similar to the ways in which young fans today revere their pop

idols in live concerts. A known fact about audience feedback is that in contests


27

sponsored by various entertainment periodicals in the 1930s, readers were asked to

send in ballots ranking their favourite singers so that the popularity of the singers

could be gauged by readers’ responses. 33 However, more detailed data about

behavioural rules must be left in abeyance until more reliable information can be

gathered.

4. Social and ideological rules

The fourth group contains the rules which cover the social image of artists and

the nature of the music community and its relationship to the world beyond. On the

one hand, popular singers in this era relied a great deal on record companies for their

continuing performing careers; on the other hand, they maintained an ambiguous

relationship with the audience. Record companies came to China with a view to

opening up a new market of their record players and recordings. With this new

technology, these companies made it possible to store the sounds of stage

performances and to sell them in the form of a commodity. To singers, making

recordings (either for films or for gramophone records) was the best way to circulate

songs quickly in the country and thus to make their names known to a wider audience.

Although record companies could reap a great profit for their own sake from

contracted singers, it was under the support of these companies that the artists could

become established and their stage careers last a long time in the entertainment

industry. Therefore, it was of vital importance for singers to keep on good terms with

record companies.

However, to listeners, a record company was just a commercial institution,

similar to countless other companies who promoted Western inventions and amenities


28

in Shanghai at the time; it did not matter which institution released the records. What

the audience really paid attention to were songs and singers, who fascinated the

ordinary public with their syrupy voices. Despite the fact that entertainers, such as

story-telling singers and opera players, had long been stigmatised in traditional

society, people were not only attracted by popular singers’ musical works but also

interested in their personal matters. A Chinese saying goes that ‘a whore has no

feeling for love; an opera player has no sense of honour and justice’ (biaozi wuqing

xizi wuyi). In spite of being looked down upon in such a way, in the past the players

used to comfort themselves with the proverb that ‘whoever is human listens to opera’

(fanshi ren jiudei tingxi). These words indeed shed light on the views of the public on

Shanghai popular singers at that time – for them, while entertainment is essential for

life, it is low and degrading to provide entertainment.

From an ideological point of view, the Shanghai era saw two extreme attitudes

in response to popular music. When this new form of entertainment that fused

Chinese traditional and Western musical elements first enjoyed success and

popularity, the ranks of scholars, moralists and nationalists derided it and tried to ban

it as decadent and pornographic and even denounced it as opium for the masses. They

argued that this singing and dancing valued immediate pleasure without thought for

the future and created an illusion of peace and prosperity. Nevertheless, it could not

be denied that to those living the harsh reality of Chinese social conditions at that

time, popular song meant escape, while for those chasing flashy and fleshy

excitement, cabaret dancing was a fashion and fad as well as a mark of urban

superiority. It is possible to argue that, on the one hand, Shanghai popular music

involved a multitude of commercial activities in conflict with the morality of

traditional Chinese society and was incongruous with calls for the salvation of the


29

nation, while on the other hand, these songs filled the needs of sectors of the public

for amusement at the same time as the vivid imagery they conveyed reflected most

people’s longing for a happier life.

5. Economical and juridical rules

The last group in Fabbri’s rules deals with the commercial activities that

guarantee the survival and prosperity of a music genre. The song-and-dance troupe

may be the earliest form of commercialisation through which Shanghai popular songs

were produced and promoted. The organiser of a troupe wrote songs, trained singers,

arranged performances and signed contracts with record companies to make

recordings of their stage appearances. For example, Li Jinhui’s Bright Moon Song-

and-Dance Troupe once signed an exclusive contract and then recorded no less than

one hundred records within the course of six months.34 Another common way of

promoting songs was through the music society, smaller groups of singers and

instrumentalists which usually appeared over the airwaves in programmes sponsored

and supported by commercial firms. Some music societies, such as the Great Unity

Club (Datong she), even promoted their musical works by implementing the use of

radio broadcasts with an effective use of printed material – they periodically

published collections of songs, as a guide for tunes and lyrics with pictures of their

singers on the cover page endorsing the products of advertisers as a means to support

the publication.35

Besides their work for the song-and-dance troupes and music societies, some

Shanghai popular singers also made a living by performing in restaurants and

cabarets. For instance, Wu Yingyin had sung in dancehalls and nightclubs before she


30

made her first recording. Yao Li, after rising to fame with the success of her radio

programmes and records, also performed in top dancehalls in Shanghai. In addition to

those live performances, films played an important part in the production and

dissemination of Shanghai popular songs. Good songs usually helped to promote

films and drew a wide range of people, and on the other hand, the songs of

commercially successful films were later made into records, published in collections

of song sheets, and performed again in broadcasts and dancehalls.

The three major record companies active in Shanghai – the British-based EMI

(China), the American RCA-Victor and the local Great China Records – produced

popular songs in their own studios with their own contracted artists and promoted

them all over China and abroad. By the end of 1930s EMI (China) controlled most of

the Shanghai popular music market and most composers, arrangers and female singers

signed exclusively to EMI during the most crucial stage of their careers. Existing

records indicate that in EMI most business decisions were made by foreign managers

and song lyrics were usually translated into English to be approved by them before a

recording session, whereas Chinese employees provided their musical expertise or

worked as compradors responsible for negotiating with performers and local

distributors. There was certainly a well-functioning mechanism dealing with

copyright of songs and lyrics, as well as recordings because, even now EMI (Hong

Kong) still pays royalties to the living elderly singers of the Shanghai era or their

descendants when old recordings are reissued.36 However, because the documents

about the organisation structures of these companies were lost or destroyed during the

chaos of political change, most facts about the decision-making processes within

companies and the legal relationships between artists (including singers, musicians,

composers and lyricists) and companies remain unclear.


31

V. Concluding remarks

The review of the rise of Shanghai popular song reveals that Li Jinhui’s love

song triggered the creation and development of Shanghai popular song, and that

through gramophone recordings, radio broadcastings and sound films, this new form

of musical entertainment enjoyed great popularity throughout Shanghai and other

regions of China, regardless of severe criticisms from certain sectors of society.

Because these musical works were dismissed as decadent sound and neglected in the

history of modern Chinese music, most facts and figures about the popular music

industry were not preserved properly and were lost or scattered in Mainland China,

Hong Kong and the Southeast Asian Chinese communities due to the political change

on the Mainland after 1949.

As shown in the preliminary analysis of the features of Shanghai popular song

from the perspective of music genre, there is indeed much variety in the musical

elements of these songs, though, generally speaking, most combine traditional

Chinese melody and singing styles together with Western orchestral accompaniment.

Despite the fact that these songs tend to be concerned with sentiment and put stress on

the pleasure of the moment, other issues can be found in the contents of the lyrics as

well. Notionally, from the perspective of formal and semiotic features, it is not

entirely satisfying to define a genre where songs are mainly in one style but where

other various stylistic elements are incorporated here and there into the repertoire.

However, taking into consideration the social and historical context in which

Shanghai popular song came into existence, it is not difficult to understand why

different forms of performance still existed while the main style had been developed

through the combination of specific musical materials from the two cultures.


32

Shanghai was China’s first modern industrial, commercial and financial centre

as well as one of the world’s most prosperous cities in the first half of the twentieth

century. All kinds of modern technology and amenities were introduced to Shanghai

soon after their appearance in other Western major cities; however, Chinese tradition

and habits still existed in people’s everyday lives. Similarly, while people were

intoxicated with the fusion of the Chinese pentatonic scales and the Western

instrumental accompaniment in Wu Yingyin’s ‘Meet by Chance’ (Ping shui

xiangfeng), they never forgot the lasting charm of the huqin and story-telling ballad in

Zhou Xuan’s ‘The Wandering Songstress’ and never stopped enjoying the resonant

bel canto singing in Sheng Jialun’s film song ‘Singing in the Midnight’ (Yeban

gesheng).

Ever since Li Jinhui began the composition of love songs, arranged

commercial performances and made them into gramophone records, the production

and spread of Shanghai popular songs had been dependent on the collaboration

between artists (song-and-dance troupes, music societies or other contracted

musicians and performers of record companies) and commercial institutions (radio

stations, film companies and record companies). Due to insufficient knowledge

regarding the details of business practices in the Shanghai popular music industry, it is

not clear whether there was someone in an executive position in the music society or

song-and-dance troupe or a department in the record company functioning as the

equivalent to the A&R person in today’s major record companies, i.e. responsible for

the style of musical works and the image of a star. Nevertheless, the musical

elements, lyrical contents and forms of performance of these popular songs reflect a

collective style of these participating artists and institutions and, at the same time,

bygone audience tastes.


33

The review of the rise of Shanghai popular song and preliminary analysis of

its generic features provide a good point of departure for a reconstruction of a

neglected part in its history. More evidence will present a clearer picture of the

context in which the various musical events took place and take us a step further in

our understanding of this interesting period in the modern history of music in China.

Endnotes

1 To give a few examples: Hanchao Lu, Beyond the Neon Lights: Everyday Shanghai

in the Early Twentieth Century (Berkeley, Cali. and London: University of California

Press, 1999); Sherman Cochran (ed.) Inventing Nanjing Road: Commercial Culture in

Shanghai, 1900-1945 (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell East Asia Series, 1999); Frederic E.

Wakeman, Policing Shanghai, 1927-1937 (London: University of California Press,

1995); Frederic Jr. Wakeman and Wen-hsin Yeh (eds), Shanghai Sojourners

(Berkeley, Cali.: Institute of East Asian Studies, 1992); Yingjin Zhang (ed.), Cinema

and Urban Culture in Shanghai, 1922-1943 (Stanford, Cali.: Stanford University

Press, 1990).

2 The first Shanghai popular song was written by Li Jinhui in 1927. The historical

recording (Shanghai Pathé 34278 A & B) mentioned here was performed by his

daughter, Li Minghui, and was released by the EMI (China) in Shanghai. It appears

that the critical remark ‘strangling cat’ was first made by the noted writer Lu Xun.

3 The term Haipai was originally used by the literati in the late nineteen century to

disparage the more vibrant, liberal and commercial-oriented local painting, theatre

and literature that was produced in Shanghai and which contrasted with the


34

supposedly more conservative and traditional Jingpai (‘Beijing style’). However, in

the early twentieth century this designation was gradually accepted by people in

Shanghai and applied to them with a positive connotation. For a further discussion of

the history and meaning of the term, see Zhang Zhongli (ed.), Jindai shanghai

chengshi yanjiu (Modern Shanghai studies) (Shanghai: Shanghai renmin chubanshe,

1991), pp. 1130-59.

4 For more details about the history and organisation of Shanghai Municipal

Symphony Orchestra, refer to Robert Bickers, ‘“The greatest culture asset east of

Suez”: the history and politics of the Shanghai Municipal Orchestra and Public Band,

1881-1946’, in Chi-hsiung Chang (ed.), China and the World in the Twentieth

Century (Taipei: Institute of History, Academia Sinica, 2001), pp. 835-75.

5 There were several amateur groups, such as the Heavenly Cadence Society (Tianyun

she), the Great Unity Music Society (Datong yuehui) and the Midnight Music Society

(Ziye yuehui), striving to preserve the tradition of serious instrumental music and

operatic performance. They also carried out research in the compilation and

translation of Chinese music manuscripts into Western notation, and improved the

design and manufacture of Chinese musical instruments. These groups usually gave

regular concerts in their own right or other programmes in hotels and private banquets

by request. Among these groups is worth remarking the Midnight Music Club whose

founder, Xu Ruhui, a former member of the Great Unity Music Society, conducted his

music ensemble accompanying popular songs written by him; the performance

featured Chinese percussion playing frenetic jazzy rhythms. For more details of Xu’s

life account and his popular songs, see Xu Wenxia, ‘Wode fuqin Xu Ruhui yu


35

Zhongguo zaoqi liuxing gequ’ (My father Xu Ruhui and Chinese early popular songs)

Musicology in China, 1 (2002), p. 86.

6 School songs are tunes and lyrics collected and published as educational materials

for teaching singing in elementary school or at higher levels. The earliest group

devoted to these works was the Music Study Society (Yinyue jiangxihui) founded by

Chinese visiting students in Tokyo. Shen Xingong, Li Shutong and Zeng Zhimin

were three of the most prolific composers in this society. For their propositions and

contributions to Chinese early music education see Gerlinde Gild, ‘Early 20th century

“reforms” in Chinese music,’ Chime, 12-13 (1998), pp. 119-21.

7 In 1933, leftists Tian Han, An Er, Ren Guang, Zhang Shu and Lü Ji formed the

Soviet Friend Society (Sulian zhi you she) in order to study Soviet mass music and

composition. In the next year they set up another group, the Music Unit of the Left-

wing Dramatists Union (Zuoyi julian yiyue xiaozu), to integrate more musicians into

the production of music and films and thence to devote to communist revolution. See

Qin Qiming (ed.), Yinyuejia Ren Guang (The musician Ren Guang) (Anhui, China:

Anhui wenyi chubanshe, 1988), pp. 13-17.

By the end of 1935 over a hundred choirs and singing societies had been founded

across the various social strata in Shanghai. These societies gathered regularly to sing

patriotic songs in the hope of boosting the morale of Chinese people and army. See

Wang Yuhe, ‘New music of China: its development under the blending of Chinese

and Western cultures through the first half of twentieth century, part II’, Journal of

Music in China, 30:2 (2001), p.189.


36

8 In the mid-1930s, there were eighty-nine radio stations running in China and forty-

three of them were situated in Shanghai, among which four were operated by

foreigners and catered mainly for Western communities, two were state-owned, and

the others were all local commercial stations. See Shanghai tong she (ed.), Shanghai

yanjou ziliao xuji (Shanghai research materials vol. 2) (Shanghai: Shangahi tong she,

1935), pp. 564-9.

9 The Chinese word genü can be understood literally as those females who sing to

earn their living. However, it was usually used as a derogatory term because actresses

or entertainers had been traditionally stigmatised in traditional Chinese society, and

performers who ‘sell songs’ to the public might sometimes be associated with

courtesans and their sexual services.

10 Li Jinguang, Chen Gexin and another three prolific composers, Yao Min, Yan

Gongshang, and Liang Yueying, were regarded as the most influential and were later

nicknamed the ‘Gang of Five’ of Chinese popular music by critics.

11 Andrew F. Jones, Yellow Music: Media Culture and Colonial Modernity in the

Chinese Jazz Age (London: Duke University Press, 2001), p. 74.

12 Examples of Nie Er’s songs are, ‘Song of Dockers’ (Matou gongren ge), ‘Song of

Picking Water Chestnut’ (Cailing ge), ‘Song of Newspaper Boys’ (Maibao ge), and

‘The Volunteer’s March’ (Yiyong jun jinxingqu), which later on became the national

anthem of the People’s Republic of China.

13 See Wang Yuhe, Zhongguo jinxiandai yinyue shi (A history of Chinese

contemporary and modern music), 2nd edn (Beijing: People’s Music Press, 1994), pp.

87-92; ‘New music of China: its development under the blending of Chinese and


37

Western cultures through the first half of twentieth century, part II’, Journal of Music

in China, 30:2 (2001), p. 189.

14 For example, Tim Brace, ‘Popular music in contemporary Beijing: modernism and

cultural identity’, Asian Music, 22:2 (1991), pp. 43-66; Huang Hao, ‘Yaogun yinyue:

rethinking Mainland Chinese rock ’n’ roll’, Popular Music, 20:1 (2001), pp. 1-11;

Nimrod Baranovitch, China's New Voices: Popular Music, Ethnicity, Gender, and

Politics, 1978-1997 (Berkeley, Cali.: University of California Press, 2003).

15 Liu Xing, Zhongguo liuxing gequ yuanliu (The origins of Chinese popular songs)

(Taichung, Taiwan: Taiwan shengzhengfu xinwenchu, 1988); Liu Guowei, Jinqu

wushi nian: guoyu liuxing gequ shiyong baodian (Fifty years of the golden songs: a

practical treasury of Mandarin Chinese popular songs) (Taipei: Donggong guoji

guanggao youxian gongsi, 1996); Wong Kee-Chee, The Age of Shanghainese Pops:

1930-1970 (Hong Kong: Joint Publishing, 2001).

16 Shuijing, Liuxing gequ cangsang ji (A record of the vicissitudes of popular song)

(Taipei: Dadi chubanshe, 1985).

17 Jones, Yellow Music, pp. 94, 136.

18 See Jonathan Stock, ‘Reconsidering the past: Zhou Xuan and the rehabilitation of

early twentieth-century popular music’, Asian Music, 26:2 (1995), p. 129.

19 Wong, The Age of Shanghainese Pops, pp. 12-13.

20 For the details of how genre labels work, see Simon Frith, Performing Rites: On the

Value of Popular Music (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1996), ch. 4.

21 Jason Toynbee, Making Popular Music: Musicians, Creativity and Institutions

(London: Arnold, 2000), p. 103.


38

22 See Franco Fabbri, ‘A theory of musical genres’, in David Horn and Philip Tagg

(eds), Popular Music perspectives (Göteberg and London: IASPM, 1982), pp. 52-81.

In this article, Fabbri defines a musical genre as a set of musical events (real or

possible) whose course is governed by a definite set of socially accepted rules and

further suggests five groups of rules involved in the definition of a genre.

23 In Chinese music, one single note in itself could be seen as an experience of

harmony which can trigger off other extra-musical harmonious references. For a

rough guide of the melody and harmony concept of Chinese music, see Otto Karolyi,

Traditional African and Oriental Music (London: Penguin Books, 1998), pp. 150-56.

24 As a curiosity, it is worth remarking here that ‘Rose, Rose, I Love You’ was the

first Chinese song with English lyrics that made it in the international market. The

interpretation by Frankie Laine (Columbia 39367) became very popular during the

1950s, but most Western listeners had no idea of its Chinese origin when they first

came across the song.

25 For instrumentation of jazz in these two eras, see Avril Dankworth, Jazz: An

Introduction to Its Musical Basis (London: Oxford University Press, 1968), pp.54, 62.

26 See Shuijing, Liuxing gequ cangsang ji (A record of the vicissitudes of popular

song) (Taipei: Dadi chubanshe, 1985), pp. 166-7.

27 Seeking higher musical artistry, Ouyang Feiying and Qu Yunyun studied European

classical music and art songs under foreign vocalists, Mrs Ford and Mrs Levi. They

later gave several concerts with Shanghai Municipal Symphonic Orchestra. See

Ouyang Feiying, Wochang Xianggelila: Ouyang Feiying huiyi lu (I sing Shangri-la: a

memoir of Ouyang Feiyin) (Taipei: Yuzhouguang chubanshe, 1998), p. 56.


39

28 The use of vernacular as opposed to classical Chinese in writings and textbooks had

been insistently demanded by some intellectuals since the May 4th movement of 1919.

As a result, the Ministry of Education acceded to their appeal and officially mandated

the use of vernacular in public schools in 1921. Consistent with these demands about

using the vernacular, some of the May 4th intellectuals had been writing the so-called

‘new poems’ (as opposed to classical poems), discarding classical rules of tonal

patterns and rhyme schemes for free style and plain words.

29 To name a few, lang (‘man’) and ge (‘elder brother’) used by females when

addressing their loved men, nu (literally, ‘slave’) used by females referring to

themselves, and jie (‘elder sister’) or mei (‘younger sister’) meaning either girls or

women.

30 A taxi dancer is a professional dance partner, employed by a dancehall or nightclub

to dance with patrons who pay a fee for each dance.

31 See Wong, The Age of Shanghainese Pops, p.19

32 See Shuijing, Liuxing gequ cangsang ji, p. 205.

33 Two examples of these periodicals are Popstar Pictorial (Gexing huabao) and

Nightly News Magazine (Dawanbao fukan).

34 See Jones, Yellow Music, pp. 95-6.

35 This Great Unity Club, where Yao Li and Yao Min played important roles, had no

connexion to the abovementioned Great Unity Music Society which was devoted to

traditional Chinese music.


40

36 For example, Wu Yingying was invited by EMI to Hong Kong several times to

collect royalties when she still resided in Mainland China and a royalty was also kept

for Zhou Xuan’s sons after she passed away. See Liu, Jinqu wushi nian, p. 51.

41

Chapter Two

A Model for Understanding Shanghai Pop

Apart from great popularity among Chinese fans, an interesting combination

of various musical elements and fragmentary historical accounts of the pop industry

and its participants in Shanghai, what else about Shanghai popular song is known to

us today? Just as the Chinese audience took pleasure in popular songs in the 1930s

and 1940s, with the rise of the broadcasting industry, the availability of gramophone

records and the popularity of sound films, so did people in the West enjoy a wide

range of popular music during the same period. However, whilst nowadays there is a

vast literature about the development, the makers and consumers and contents of

Western, particularly Anglo-American, popular music in this period, there are few

writings that provide comparable facts and figures of Shanghai popular song.1 As

mentioned in the introductory chapter, there is only sketchy information about record

companies, artists’ life accounts, anecdotes about historic events and commentaries on

a few musical works scattered in various types of publications, such as biographies,

popular periodicals and liner notes for recordings. In order to rediscover this

underrepresented part of the modern history of Chinese popular music, a systematic

approach is required to gain a better understanding of the industry where Shanghai

popular songs were produced, sold and consumed, as well as all the components that

make up those popular songs.

Chapter Two Model for Shanghai Pop

42

I. Rediscovering Shanghai pop

Legendary as Shanghai popular song is, what made it so popular from the

early 1930s to 1940s in Shanghai and for more than a decade up to the 1960s in Hong

Kong? It is generally believed that Major transnational record companies which

manufactured both recordings and record-play equipment came to Shanghai and other

major cities in Asia in order to open up new markets and expand their businesses.2 It

is a historical fact that the proceeds from selling a collection of love songs to a

Shanghai publisher resolved Li Jinhui’s financial difficulties and initiated the creation

of Shanghai popular song. Since the late 1920s, Chinese popular music entered the

mass market in the form of purchasable commodities primarily through songbook

publishers, record companies, radio stations and film companies and live

performances in entertainment venues. The underlying rationale for the business Li

and these institutions had been doing is straightforward, as Simon Frith indicates, ‘to

make money out of music’.3

Since music is not a thing but an experience which is transient and

ungraspable, the key to make money out of music is to turn it into something that can

be traded for financial profits. It is not sounds but the storage of sounds that we buy

and sell. Shanghai popular song came to existence at the time when a new technology

of musical storage and retrieval was developed and introduced to China. The

recording technology not only created a new industry sector, the manufacture of

records and record players, but also established the structure of the modern music

industry. Frith describes the music industry as ‘a business in which both the supply

side (the musicians) and the demand side (the consumers) are irrational’ and record

companies ‘make their money from bringing supply and demand into line’.4 Keith

Negus suggests that the industry should be understood as ‘both a commercial business


43

driven by the pursuit of profits and a site of creative human activity in which some

very good popular music has come and continues to emerge’.5 It is not clear how

much financial benefit was gained by the record companies involved in the production

and distribution of popular songs in 1930s and 1940s Shanghai. These companies

indeed filled various needs of musicians, including singers, songwriters,

instrumentalists and consumers (not only the audience who listened to songs but also

those whose business relied much on the use of songs, such as radio stations and film

companies).

These economic facts can be broken down into three facets, each of which

suggests one of the three cornerstones of the modern music industry: musical events,

commercial activities and technological developments. Musical events include

creation of songs by composers and lyricists, interpretation of songs by

instrumentalists and singers in recording sessions and live performance, and

appreciation of musical works by the audience. Commercial activities consist of a

variety of activities concerning management and operation of the business, including

processes occurring inside a record company, such as recruiting and contracting

artists, planning the production and manufacturing records, as well as those processes

leading to the outside, such as promotion and distribution of products and licensing

the use of them. Technological developments refer to invention or improvement of

musical storage and retrieval devices, and new music carriers which are intended to

make recorded sound quality better, recording sessions more flexible and record

storage and preservation easier, as well as to other technologies, such as sound films,

radio and television, which help in the distribution of music to the mass market.

These three cornerstones not only play their roles individually but also

interrelate dynamically to one another. Although it is musical events that bring about


44

musical supply and demand in the industry, browsing through the history of the record

industry, it is not difficult to note that how music is composed, performed and listened

to is influenced by technology. For example, the development of electric pick-ups,

microphones and amplification in the mid-1920s made it possible to balance small,

weak human voice with sonorous sound produced by accompanying bands both in

live performances and recording studios and thus gave rise to the intimacy singing

style with a languid, caressing voice and more personal sentiments in lyrics of

American Tin Pan Alley songs.6 The development of the durable vinyl 45-rpm record

in the late 1940s, together with the growing popularity of compact transistor radios

since the mid-1950s, played important roles in the course of the formation of a new

music genre, rock.7 Moving on to the 1970s, the arrival of tape cassettes and cassette

recorders gave listeners a new means of control over the sounds and allowed them to

‘compile LPs and radio shows for themselves’ and ‘use a Walkman to carry their

soundscapes around with them’.8 Nowadays, the utilisation of digital technologies

such as MIDI and sound editing software makes it possible for musicians to compose

on a computer and to record without the need of the good acoustic environment of the

studio. These historical facts certainly show us how musical events may be shaped by

technology.

As for the impact of commercial activities upon musical events, the

bureaucratic system of production and promotion in most record companies serves as

good evidence. In order to realise optimal returns, i.e. maximising profits from

success and minimising losses from failure, record companies establish contract-based

relationships with artists and seek control over issues such as the release schedule, the

choice of the producer, songs to be released and the song order in an album, the

promotional strategy and the licensing policy.9 The musical style, image and other


45

particular characters of a final product are usually, if not always, determined in

accordance with the corporate policy. Reluctant to risk stylistic experiments or

innovation when very few records actually generate a profit, producers may simply

follow standardised formulae which govern style, text, melody, formal structure,

harmonic progression and the like.10 It is a business decision that contributes to the

homogeneity of a certain musical style in the market. The recent emergence of ‘world

music’ is another example of commercial influence on musical events. The term

‘world music’ was originally coined in a 1987 meeting by eleven independent record

labels to name the many various forms of music unclassifiable in terms of Western

genre labels in order to improve the music’s sales situation.11 However, in the 1990s

even major record companies started packaging and marketing their artists and, in the

name of world music, musical elements draw from non-Western repertoires were

intentionally added or rearranged. Hence, a new fashion of music production started.

At the same time, a new sect of ‘world’ fans gradually formed in the market, attracted

by any kind of non-Western music promoted by record companies regardless of what

the music really was. Many artists also tried to integrate into their compositions or

performances non-Western instruments and musical materials of the minorities as a

mark of ‘world’.

The collaboration between technological developments and commercial

activities can be observed through the complex history in which acquisitions, mergers

and joint ventures have been made by several transnational corporations, such as the

British-based Thorn-EMI, the Japanese Sony Corporation, the Bertelsmann Group of

Germany and the American Time-Warner conglomerate, which not only own record

companies but also have interests in media, leisure and entertainment, domestic and

industry audio-visual products and telecommunication equipment. 12 As the


46

production and mass distribution of commodified culture items, i.e. musical products

in the case of the music industry, are usually faced with an uncertain and

unpredictable environment, there are needs for the involved entrepreneurial

organisations to diversify into related technologies and entertainment business to

disperse the risk incurred in developing new products and markets. Moreover, with

the arrival and improvement of new technologies for home entertainment and mass

media such as tapes, video, compact discs, the Internet and cable or satellite TV,

according to Keith Negus, ‘the positioning of artists in various media and the

construction of image’ has moved ‘beyond sound production’.13 In order to extend

the exposure of artists and their music as well as to increase the circulation of musical

commodities, record companies have to make the most of and expand their interests

across information technologies and various media outlets. Corporate policy also has

to be modified accordingly in response to the change of technologies so that new

technologies can offer a competitive advantage in the pursuit of commercial success.

It is across these three facets that musical products can be manufactured,

circulated and consumed. In previous studies, the production, distribution and

consumption of popular music is usually examined as a series of industry processes,

despite scholars’ various perspectives on the actual functioning of these processes.

Bound up with the stress on the systematic nature of the production process in

capitalist societies, Theodor W. Adorno argues that popular music is produced by a

culture industry, which he compares to an ‘assembly line’ turning out its products by

synthetic, planned methods, just like those industries which manufacture consumer

goods. Musical desires are created, controlled and exploited in the industry and thus

‘a circle of manipulation and retroactive need in which the unity of the system grows

ever stronger’ is formed’.14 According to Adorno, whilst artists fit their musical


47

works to rigid patterns of pre-existing formulae and norms, the audience passively

accept standardised musical products manufactured by the assembly line.

Different from Adorno’s extreme standpoint of industrialised mass

manufacture, Paul Hirsch developed an ‘industry system’ model of the production of

culture products in which artists and mass audiences are linked by an ordered

sequence of events. Creative raw materials are first proposed by artists in the

‘creative subsystem’ and then admitted to and selected for sponsorship together with

promotion by producers and administrators in the ‘managerial subsystem’. The

selected output is filtered by mass media gatekeepers in ‘the institutional subsystem’

and finally introduced to the public in ‘the societal subsystem’.15 In this model, music

as a raw material is processed through a system with preselection strategies at each

stage, and musical products arrive at the consumption stage only when they succeed

in firstly being selected by an entrepreneurial organisation and secondly receiving

mass-media coverage. However, apart from making selections to cope with

uncertainty, Hirsch sheds little light on the impact of these strategies on musical

works and moreover, it appears that in this model the music industry staff have no

influence on the shaping of products.

In a study of country music songwriting John Ryan and Richard Peterson

show a loosely linked ‘decision chain’ through which songs pass and reach

consumers. At each link in the chain, numerous specialists make decisions and pass

the work to the next stage, but ‘songs are often rewritten or reinterpreted at several

points along the way’ before they are presented to the consuming audience. The

industry staff may shape products according to a ‘product image’.16 For example, a

song may be modified after the producer listened to the demo to fit the image he

wants to convey and the appearance of a song may keep changing during the


48

recording session and at the postproduction stage. Adding to this point, Negus

contends further that the industry personnel are not only involved in filtering or

contributing to product images but also actively intervene and change the sounds and

images as they are being put together.17

Obviously, both the ‘industry system’ and the ‘decision chain’ are

unidirectional: musical products are passed stage by stage from artists to the public.

Derived from the results of a research work on the record industry in France, Jean-

Pierre Vignolle indicates that popular music is manufactured in a manner of collective

creation by horizontal collaboration between various specialists and there is no

‘absolutely fixed logical or chronological order of precedence’ in the entire process in

which songs are manufactured and marketed to the public. He also suggests that the

professionals in creation are linked to the public with a fundamental connection and

thus the consumer can be regarded as part of the productive forces of music.18

Vignolle’s argument shows that the production of popular music is not determined in

one direction but is a collective creation and involves the production and the

consumption side interactively.

In an attempt to gain a better understanding of the pop industry in 1930s and

1940s Shanghai rather than debate the diversity and appropriateness of models of the

industry, a working model is proposed in this study based on the concept of the

‘industry chain’, ‘decision chain’ and ‘collective creation’, together with the dynamic

interaction of the abovementioned three cornerstones. In our society, the popular

music industry functions as a platform on which musical products flow from the

supply side to the demand side through several business processes. The platform is

set up by various participants involved in various musical events, commercial

activities and technological developments and thereon musical products stored and


49

retrieved in different forms are produced, sold and consumed. The products both

shape and are shaped by all the processes occurring on the platform. Fig.1 illustrates

a simplified model of music industry with its product flow from the supply side.

Fig.1 Simplified model of the popular music industry

Although this model basically draws on historical facts and recent

developments of the Anglo-American music industry and might not be fully

applicable to the pop industry in 1930s and 1940s Shanghai, it can serve as a good

starting point for this study. Thus, grounded on this proposed model, the work of

rediscovering Shanghai popular song can be carried out at two levels: first,

understanding the operating mechanism of the ‘platform’, which includes the

producing, selling and consuming processes in the popular music industry, and

second, understanding the components of the ‘products’, which are musical elements

and lyrical contents in Shanghai popular songs. The two-level work should begin by

reconstructing a historical view of the industry and continue with an analysis of lyrics,

melodies, instrumental arrangement and interpretation of song works.


50

II. Level one: reconstruction of the platform

In the proposed working model of the music industry, it is suggested that

musical events, commercial activities and technological developments impact upon

one another and musical products may shape and be shaped by all of these processes.

However significant on the industry platform these interactions are, the mutual

dynamics can only be detected and described by virtue of tracing through the course

through which music comes into existence from its creators and reaches consumers in

the form of purchasable commodities in the market place. Hirsch’s ‘industry system’,

Ryan and Peterson’s ‘decision chain’ and Vignolle’s ‘collective creation’ are all

grounded on observations of the flow of musical products, whatever determinants of

the appearance or image of final products they have discovered. Thus, in order to

reconstruct a historical view of the Shanghai popular music industry, it is useful and

necessary to investigate the physical flow of musical products and thereby to

understand the operating mechanism of the platform.

North America and Europe are undoubtedly places where the modern music

industry began and where relevant technologies were innovated and improved,

recording and producing processes established and commercial practices developed.

During the 1930s to 1940s, two of the three major record companies involved in the

production and publishing of popular music in Shanghai were owned by transnational

capital, the British-based EMI and the American RCA-Victor. A third one, Great

China Records, originally funded and established by both Chinese and Japanese

capital, ran its business with limited facilities on a much smaller scale compared to

the two foreign companies and never competed with them. Therefore, business

practices and manufacturing processes in the Shanghai popular music industry might

run parallel to those in most major record companies based in American and


51

European countries. In view of this assumption, a hypothetical flowchart that shows

how popular songs move from record companies to consumers along with all the

involved participants in the industry can be sketched out according to our knowledge

of the modern record industry, regardless of limited, fragmented information of the

industry in old Shanghai available at the beginning of this study.

In the hypothetical flowchart (Fig.2), the product flow is divided into three

processes, the producing, selling and consuming. The producing process is centred in

record companies, controlled by transnational or local capital, where various

contracted or freelance artists, including lyricists, composers, instrumentalists and

singers, collaborate with other administrative and technical staff on music production.

The selling process involves several channels, including songbook publishers,

wholesalers or retailers, film companies, radio stations and dancehalls. The producing

and selling processes are connected by agents and promoters who help in arranging

local distribution of records and cooperation between record and film companies, as

well as to organise live performances in radio stations and dancehalls or other

entertainment venues. However, singers and instrumentalists may give regular live

performances and composers may write songs for songbook publishers and film

companies in their own right rather than in association with record companies. In the

consuming process, the audience purchases musical products, or simply hears it for

free, in various forms such as sheet music, gramophone records, soundtracks in the

cinema and live performances, critics judge the merits of those music works and the

press collects and comments on all kinds of information about musical products and

events around them. Both critics and the audience offer their views to the press, but

the audience also relies on the press to obtain more information. The consuming

process is linked to the producing process by feedback on music products from critics,


52


53

the audience and the press. Moreover, loosely around the selling and consuming

processes, there are also regulatory institutions, either governmental authorities or

other private organisations, which are responsible for censorship as well as setting up

and enforcing regulations regarding what can be distributed to the market.

Having each participant’s position and connection to others defined in the

flowchart, the level-one exploratory work lies in discovering the details of activities

they are involved in, artistic or technical expertise they had, interaction and

communication among them and the social context in which the industry platform is

erected.

In his article about research methods Vic Gammon indicates that ‘the greatest

single problem in the historical study of popular music is that we are for the most part

unable to hear the music we wish to study.’19 Obviously, the music he mentions is the

music which was played before the advent of recording technologies and therefore not

stored for our reference today. Fortunately, Shanghai popular song came into

existence after recording and playing devices were introduced to China, or rather it

was partly in the form of recorded sounds that these songs were disseminated and

became popular, and thus nowadays some Shanghai popular songs can still be heard

in historical recordings, which are useful source materials for analysis of the music

per se. As for reconstructing a historical view of the bygone Shanghai popular music

industry, it requires more evidence of the music producing, selling and consuming

processes so that facts and figures of musical and related commercial activities can be

verified. However, due to the chaos caused by the Sino-Japanese War from 1937 to

1945 and the civil war between the National Party and the Chinese Communist and

the political change in 1949, details of those processes are no longer intact. A clear


54

picture has yet to be pieced together through exhaustive investigation of various types

of evidence.

Based upon his empirical historical work on musical activity in nineteenth-

century southern England, Gammon divides qualitatively various forms and sources

of evidence into two categories and examines their usage and limitation. The first is

direct evidence, which includes artefacts of musical activities and other materials

produced by the participating musicians. Although the value of evidence in this

category is the direct relation to a researched subject, it is important to note whether a

single piece of evidence is typical and to what extent it can be generalised to reflect

the view of the whole industry. As we are not likely to recover all the necessary

information from direct evidence, whose validity may need further assessing, the

second category, indirect evidence, should then be employed to examine the

representativeness of direct evidence and as a supplementary way to gain more

understanding of the subject under investigation. Indirect evidence can be usually

found in circulating printed matter such as newspapers, magazines and literary works

produced by journalists, critics or writers at the time in question, and in collections

and works of antiquarian collectors and informed amateurs. The problem of this type

of evidence is the subjectivity of producers. As journalists, critics and writers would

impose their own categories of perception on what they observe and the situation

could be altered due to their presence, what is observed may not be the norm and

therefore what is written down and published may not be representative. The

collectors and amateurs are also highly selective in what they record and preserve.

Only what they regarded as genuine items and valuable information, judged by the

criteria they have evolved, will be taken down. To overcome these difficulties, one


55

should ‘assembly a quantity of diverse material relating to an observed phenomenon

and sift out the elements most or all of the accounts possess.’20

The historical study of the Shanghai popular music industry must draw on a

wide range of direct and indirect evidence so that facts and figures of specific events

or common phenomena can be crosschecked. Historical materials to be investigated,

according to their source, fall into four groups, which are items released by record

companies, official reports or annals issued by governmental authorities, printed

matter and films circulated in Shanghai and narrative accounts and evidence collected

from living participants of the industry. The uses of these four groups of materials

and major problems that will be confronted in dealing them with are discussed below.

The materials issued by record companies, including internal business

documents, posters, catalogues, sheet music and gramophone records and sleeves, are

good sources of direct evidence of activities in the industry. These primary sources

reveal a range of historical facts such as the structure of record companies, the

decision-making routine and business process, publication information and how acts

were produced and promoted. Nevertheless, the original three major record

companies in old Shanghai no longer exist and neither their internal documents nor

text material released to the public then were preserved properly or transferred to any

institution.21 Most of these items are now individual collections scattered around the

world. As private collectors usually only seek and acquire what they are interested in

and institutions only curate what they are donated or entrusted to, it is unlikely to find

a single collection of primary source documents which cover chronologically the

whole period in question or all types of printed and published matter circulated at a

specific time. Therefore, any material retrieved may only reveal partial details of a

single event but not reflect a full view or a trend over a long period. Moreover, some


56

primary sources are not clearly dated. For example, a gramophone record released in

1930s and 1940s Shanghai usually bears no date. The publication year was never

printed on the record label or sleeve nor was it given on a poster or in a catalogue. It

causes problems when a date is needed to assess, for instance, when a specific

commercial practice was introduced or the impacts of an incidental event over the

ensuing years.

Official documents to be consulted consist of official statistics and census, tax

and tariff files, court proceedings, reports from regulatory institutions and government

annual reports, by which socio-economic backgrounds such as the demographic

structure, cost of living, dispensable household income, purchasing power,

commercial law, publication regulations and government attitudes towards popular

song, can be better understood. Before tracking down legal records and official

reports of demographic and commercial information, it is essential to understand by

whom and how they were generated. The city of Shanghai was governed by three

separate and distinct municipal entities, the International Settlement, the French

Concession and the City Government of Greater Shanghai. As different governing

entities had different political or economic concerns, it is possible that data were

gathered and processed for different political reasons and different perceived policy

relevance. The three administrations in Shanghai might have varied political attitudes

towards a specific subject and therefore only revealed in their publications what was

relevant for their own benefit and probably omitted or even distorted what was

disadvantageous against their positions. It may be particularly problematic when it

comes to transnational issues such as conflicts between Chinese and other

nationalities, and the situation can be even more intractable after late 1941 when the

Japanese began to take over the whole of Shanghai. Above all, apart from those


57

which are held in archives and libraries in Shanghai, official documents of the three

administrations may nowadays be scattered over those countries which once had

settlements in Shanghai, or have long been lost during the turbulence of war and

regime transitions.

Printed matter circulated in 1930s and 1940s Shanghai reveals many

interesting facets of the industry. Songbooks are important sources of tunes and lyrics

when historical recordings of specific songs are not available. Moreover, the song

selection in a songbook does not merely reflect the editor’s personal preference but

may also imply what were popular among the audience at the time. Whereas details

of live performances, performing and consuming practices and attitudes of performers

and customers in various entertainment venues can be found in settings and dialogue

in novels or other contemporary literature, information on the particulars of the

venues together with customer guidelines are provided in tourist guidebooks. In

periodicals and newspapers, one can discover anecdotes and life accounts of artists,

the audience’s listening habits and information about commercial activities of record

companies, government policies and social criticisms on popular music. In addition

to those produced during the 1930s and 1940s, recently released biographies and

memoirs may disclose more inside stories which have never been reported in the past.

Although these printed materials undoubtedly contain details of participant and

business processes they were involved in pertinent to the reconstruction of the

platform, as not all materials were written by well cited writers or released by

established institutions such as a leading daily newspaper or reputed publisher, it may

sometimes be difficult to assess the credibility of their contents. As for films, since

screen songs were often used as a publicity stunt to promote a film and the

commercial success of a film in turn gave a publicity boost to its obligatory songs,


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investigating how songs fitted into the context of a film and how many of the songs

used in a film were released by a record company helps in understanding the

cooperation between film and record companies. It also sheds light on the audience’s

musical preference on the silver screen. Moreover, as with literature, settings and

dialogue in films can provide clues to how popular songs were performed and

consumed as well as how the audience interacted with artists at various venues.

Nevertheless, sometimes it is problematic to trace a song back to the film for which it

was originally written, because while the screen song is so attractive that it is still

known to the public today, the film has long been forgotten so the song in question is

not even remembered as a screen song. In addition, the most challenging task is

searching for films. Unlike gramophone records, which can be easily played and thus

usually collected by more people, film reels are not popular collectibles. Although

some early films produced in 1930s and 1940s Shanghai have recently been re-

released on VCD or DVD, it is known that scenes were cut out either due to technical

or political issues or simply because the surviving reels are not intact.

Ideally, at least one member out of each position in the hypothetical flowchart

of the industry should be included on the list of interviewees so that not only can

information gleaned from documentary sources be crosschecked but also its

incompleteness can be compensated for. Because some members such as composers

and managers of a record company are no longer alive and other members such as

Filipino or Russian musicians can no longer be reached, the list of interviewees

certainly can never be satisfactory. The snowball sampling technique is to be

employed to access informants. Interviewees will be approached through two primary

contacts: Chen Gang, a professor from the Shanghai Conservatory of Music and the

elder son of Chen Gexin (the composer of ‘Rose, Rose, I Love You’), and Lee Leng


59

Kok, a Singaporean gramophone record collector. Fans, instrumentalists, singers and

a former employee of EMI were interviewed individually. As Shanghai popular song

was once criticised as decadent and pornographic, elderly people usually feel reluctant

to talk about issues regarding Shanghai pop and only after properly introduced and

gaining their trust can one have a dialogue with them.22 Although sample members

are not selected from a sampling frame but from among the acquaintances of existing

contacts and thus may be subject to some biases, in such a historical study in which

informants are difficult to reach, it is through snowball sampling that industry details

can be gathered from more surviving participants. Above all, it is more important to

consider how to compare and combine all the comments and recollections of their

involvement in the industry from different informants rather than to pursue all living

members. The political environment, the development of technologies and the spread

and preservation of these popular songs vary in China, Hong Kong, Taiwan and other

overseas Chinese communities. This influences the way in which people remember

and recount the events they have experienced and the phenomena observed. As a

result, informants from different political regions may have different views toward a

similar subject. Moreover, there will possibly be contradictions in the comments on

the same event made by different informants who were in different positions of the

industry. For example, since audience interpretation of media content is often highly

variable and unpredictable, based on their own perception fans might associate songs

with a social phenomenon or a political change which artists and producers did not

intend to associate with.

The four groups of historical materials are all valuable raw materials for the

work of reconstruction, yet only those which have been sifted through the mesh of

contextual sense can be used to lay the foundation and restore the whole platform.


60

Every piece of evidence from the past, in whatever form, must be interpreted with a

thorough understanding of the conditions in which they were generated, that is, to

place the texts ‘in their original context in order to gain a better of grasp of their

omissions, biases and peculiarities’.23 As Gammon puts, ‘historical work on popular

music requires carefully analysis, a detailed knowledge of context and a degree of

sympathy and imagination’, the work of reconstructing a historical view of the

Shanghai popular music industry needs an image borne in mind – Shanghai’s

prosperity and, at the same time, its political turbulence.24

III. Level two: analysis of the products

Just as most contemporary popular music takes the form of song, so the

musical products manufactured by the Shanghai popular music industry reached the

audience in the form of song through various carriers: gramophone records, songs

broadcast over radio waves, songs crooned in sound films, songs performed in

entertainment venues and songs printed on sheets or in books. When a song has just

been written out in the supply side of the industry, it is a piece of musical work

consisting only of the melody (a sequence of musical phrases, a tune) and lyrics (a set

of organised words, verses). However, when reaching the demand side, it is usually a

performance with aural effects generated by human voices and instrumental sounds or

moreover, together with visual effects, atmosphere and interactions between

performers and the audience if such a performance is carried out live in front of the

audience. The creation of a popular song can be viewed as a process in which the

primitive musical conception is transformed to audio-visual and other effects (Fig.3).


61

Fig.3 Composition-to-performance process of song creation

The birth of a song begins at the work of composition. A composer creates a

line of melody to which a lyricist compiles a group of words to fit or vice versa.25 In

the modern music industry popular song is often criticised as formulaic, full of

clichés. We do sometimes experience in some latest hit songs similarities in melodic

patterns or word usages to one another or to those we have heard somewhere else

before. However, it is the melody and lyrics, whatever stereotypical tune or

hackneyed verbiage, that form the core of the performance of a song. It cannot be

denied that some songs are so enchanting that the tunes or the words imprint on our

mind immediately after we hear them and therefore we cannot help ourselves

humming or singing repeatedly after picking up them. Some of them may become so-

called ‘evergreens’ and will be passed through decades, interpreted again and again

by several singers accompanied by different combinations of instruments with various

arrangements. Nevertheless, the original melodies and lyrics, the underlying bases of

those songs, remain unchanged. The craft of songwriting, that is, the skill of carving

out melodies and lyrics, certainly plays an important role at the very beginning of the

process.26


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In addition to the exquisite craftsmanship of writing a melody and lyrics, it is

the art of arrangement and the recording session that makes a popular song be

presented vividly in a certain style and become something can be felt and appreciated.

The work of arrangement organises the order and repetition of verses and the chorus

and harmonies and adds parts for instrumental accompaniments. In a recording

session, the musical arrangement is turned into audible music, well-organised human

voices and instrumental sounds, and stored. Antoine Hennion regards a song before

the arrangement as nothing and argues that the creation of a song ‘occurs not really at

the moment of its composition but far more at the moment of orchestration, recording

and sound mixing’.27 This is quite comprehensible because the arrangement of a song

tends to influence its style and gives the final product a particular character, which

may not have been devised by the songwriter at the stage of composition.

Furthermore, however a song has been arranged, its final image will not be decided

until the singer sings it and the instrumentalists play it during the recording session,

where these artists not only follow the musical notations and the instruction of the

producer but also interpret and perform the song with their own imaginations and

capacities. 28 Even if the singer of a song is also its writer, producer or the

accompanying instrumentalist, only when the musical work is performed can his or

her musical idea be put into practice, registered by ears and perceived by mind.

When a song has been performed by a singer in collaboration with

instrumentalists and backing vocalists or harmony singers, recorded by technicians

using proper studio technology and processed with sound engineers’ skill in post-

production editing, it becomes a performance. It can be well said that while we are

listening to a recorded song, we are listening both to the song, i.e. the tune and words

contrived by the creator, and to its performance, i.e. the rendition of this piece by a


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group of participants in a musical event taking place in the past. In terms of

communication, artists who perform a piece of musical work function as a medium, a

channel through which the writer’s musical ideas are transmitted to audiences but this

medium also modifies the original creation with its own will in the transmission

process. From the perspective of performance art, on the one hand, artists are

objectified as the medium of the art, whose qualities of being existent are determined

by the work, and on the other, they subjectify themselves as the site of the work,

deciding what happens in the whole event.29 On the occasion of playing a record or

tuning the dial on a radio, the singer’s voice we hear is in fact not only a carrier of

sounds and words but also the singer’s own character. When the performance is

delivered in front of the audience, it even involves the interplay between both sides

and is no longer unidirectional audio-visual effects. Ergo, the popular song we

consume is a performance. Taking it as a human body, its skeleton is formed by the

melody and lyrics at the stage of composition, then its flesh added after the work of

arrangement and finally its soul gained when performed in the recording session or on

other occasions of performance.

The composition-to-performance view explicates notionally how a popular

song is moulded step by step from a rudimentary tune and words to a mature work of

performance, yet in practice the whole process does not necessarily take place in a

specific order and may change from genre to genre. In some genres, the entire image

of a song, its audio-visual presentation in performance, may be contemplated at the

beginning of creation and is an indivisible whole. Taking rock music as an example,

many individual artists or groups, who are actually singer-songwriters and thus create

original works and provide the sole instrumental accompaniment for themselves,

would usually set out to compose with the instruments they play in the performance at


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hand and arrange all performing details at the same time, although further change may

be made in the future. In other genres, the work of arrangement is undertaken after

the essential musical idea, the lyrics and melody, is implemented. For example, in the

field of country music, a songwriter’s creation is first accepted by a publishing firm

and then made into a demonstration tape, in which the song is carefully arranged to

appeal to a potential producer and artist.30 After the song is chosen for a recording

singer by a producer, it will be rearranged by other specialists in ways which best fit

the singer’s established image. That is to say, the arrangement and required effects

are adaptable to and dependent on the performer’s individual style.

The creation of Shanghai popular song is similar to that of country music.

Although there was certainly no such thing as the so-called ‘demo’ in the 1930s and

1940s, songs were surely written in composers and lyricists’ own style and

orchestrated by arrangers at a later stage for recording. Based on the composition-to-

performance view of song creation, the analysis of products manufactured by the

Shanghai pop industry should cover all the aspects of a song, its skeleton, flesh and

soul. Hence, ideally, what should be examined in the product analysis includes not

only the melody, lyrics and accompaniment but also the human voice, instrumental

sound and all audio-visual effects presented in performance. That said, for the

purpose of understanding a pop industry in the past whose sole extant products are

historical recordings, it would be impracticable to cover in the product analysis all

effects in performance and how a musical work is interpreted in performance.

Although most people in 1930s and 1940s Shanghai enjoyed recorded performances

conveyed through gramophone horns or cinema loudspeakers, they also listened to

live performances delivered over the airwaves. Those who afforded merrymaking at a

cabaret or dancehall even had opportunities to watch singers reinterpreting the hits of


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other artists or probably rendering their own recorded works in a different expressive

manner. If every performance can be considered unique and unrepeatable because it

is impossible on another occasion to reproduce the exact same environment in which

a performance has been carried out, then renditions of the same song in different

spatial and temporal contexts can never be the same. In other words, only when a

performance is pristinely recorded can the same rendition of a song be heard again.

However, provided ‘listening’ itself can also be treated as part of a performance,

when the audience listen to the same recorded song, on radio, record, or in a film, they

are also participating in a one-and-only performance. Therefore, in the case of

Shanghai popular song, an investigation into all aspects of performance seems to be

unfeasible. Since in a surviving historical recording the melody, lyrics, arrangement,

singer’s voice and instrumental sounds of a Shanghai popular song has been

unalterably stored no matter on what occasion it is played back, considering the

availability of materials to be examined, it is proposed to narrow down the scope of

the product analysis to what can observed in historical recordings.31

In early discussions of popular music, sociologists used to focus on words,

investigating lyrical contents and how they are related to general social conditions,

whereas musicologists tended to pay much of their attention to music itself, analysing

the structure and constituent elements of musical texts through notated scores.

Scholars from both fields have their particular strengths in dealing with different

facets of popular music. However, as both lyrics and music (the melody and

accompaniment) are the ingredients of a musical product, it would be inadequate to

emphasise one at the expense of the other. Therefore both lyrical and musical parts

should be treated with equal significance in product analysis.


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From the lyrical side, the meaning of words is the easiest part of a popular

song to be read by its listeners though they usually understand only the sheer verbal

meaning of lines in their own imaginations. This can be seen in most if not all cases

of officially banned songs. The authorities of censorship in a country would ban a

song if anything in the lyrics is considered unacceptable, i.e. against the regime or

social mores or harmful to the well-being and stability of society.32 Once a song is

banned due to its lyrical content, the performance of its melody is also inevitably

forbidden because it is the words that make the tune significant. The musical features

of popular song may function as those of wordless classical music, which usually

suggests emotive and narrative connotation, yet, as popular song depends on the use

of language, according to Rick Altman, ‘titles and lyrics so dominate public

evaluation of a popular song’s emotive and narrative content that a song rarely

signifies separately from its linguistic content’.33 From this point of view, it can be

said that it is because the words are remembered that the song is remembered.34

However, from the musical side, it is also empirically true that the words of a

song are memorised because the melody is imprinted on mind. Words without music

would be difficult to remembered because it takes much less effort to learn the lyrics

of a song by heart by singing them out for several times in a relaxed manner than just

reading aloud. We are more willing to sing than to learn written words by rote. This

may explain why schoolchildren can learn discipline, proper behaviour and morality

more effectively through singing than read aloud printed text. Music also helps to

keep things in mind and to recall them easily, for it impresses us with more intensity.

We can recognise a song, perhaps singing along with it immediately, when it reaches

us only with the melody, but we may find it difficult to identify a lyric when it comes

as a printed text without any hint of its tune.35 We are still able to keep humming the


67

tune of a song to ourselves if several lines of the lyrics cannot be remembered, but it

is never the case that we begin to recite the words because the melody is forgotten.

What is more, on the musical part of popular song, in addition to the tune itself, the

accompaniment plays a role which does not only support and make the melody

brighter but also has its own illumination and offers a clue to the melody.36 From this

point of view, it can be argued as well that it is because the music is remembered that

the song is remembered.

Despite the fact that in the performing process a song is an integrated whole in

which words and music are bound together, when it comes to ‘song analysis’, it is

essential to deconstruct a song into its basic components. In other words, even though

pleasure of popular song can by no means be derived from separated lines of words,

notated pitches and rhythms or accompanying instrumental parts, in order to set out

the analysis, these components have to be separated from one another based upon

their theoretical juxtaposition. In exploring approaches for song analysis, scholars

working on the nineteenth-century German art song, Lied, have developed a variety of

theories and practices which treat the relation between words and music in several

ways and may be summarised into four different perspectives.37 From the first one,

song is regarded as a musical structure by which words are transformed into a musical

form and thus disappear as words. From the second, there is an irreducible

relationship between words and music and both of them coexist without losing their

individual essences. The third point of view places words and music in a hierarchical

structure where ‘words lie at the top to provide access to meaning, while the music

lies at the base to support the signification of text’. The fourth, in an eclectic way,

explains song as including three independent but overlapping areas, words, music and

song itself. Words and music are considered an input of song but retain a degree of


68

autonomy to be viewed outside the song in their own right, whereas song exists under

the influence of words and music but holds its ultimate identity not to be limited in the

frame of words or music. However the connection between music and words is

considered, it cannot help being somewhat arbitrary, but it also serves as a basis for

analysis.

In product analysis of the Shanghai pop industry, taking the second of the

abovementioned four perspectives together with the proposed composition-to-

performance view of song creation, it is assumed that while lyrics and music elements

of a song fuse naturally in performance, all of them can be identified separately for

further investigation. In historical recordings, the lyrical part of a Shanghai popular

song is the melodised words uttered by the singer and the musical part includes the

tune delivered through the singing voice and the instrumental accompaniment which

may contain a duplicated or modified vocal line, an independent melody and other

harmonic, non-harmonic and rhythmic parts. Even though apart from recordings

there are still other existing materials such as sheet music or songbooks available for

product analysis, these materials only provide lyrics and tunes. Unlike in the West,

where there are usually piano-vocal scores prepared for the sheet music market and

thus a hint of chord progressions for accompanying a song set either by the songwriter

or arranger can be found, in 1930s and 1940s Shanghai there was only the melodic

line of a song written in the simplified notation on a sheet without the piano

accompaniment or any other harmonic settings. Therefore, as proposed earlier, the

analysis will basically focus on historical recordings.

Based on the concepts of the ‘industry chain’, ‘decision chain’ and ‘collective

creation’, together with the dynamic interaction of the abovementioned three


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cornerstones, a working model is proposed. In this model, the popular industry is

viewed as a platform on which musical products were produced, sold and consumed

through several business processes. To understand Shanghai pop, the first level of

work is to reconstruct the platform, sifting through existing historical materials to

discover the details of activities the participants are involved in, artistic or technical

expertise they had, interaction and communication among them, and the social

context in which the industry platform is erected. The second level is to analyse the

products manufactured and traded on this platform by breaking down performances

stored in historical recordings into recognisable components and examining the

features of them. Before presenting the reconstructed platform and the product

analysis in the ensuing chapters, the next chapter will introduce the development and

social background of Shanghai, where the pop industry is located.

Endnotes

1 To name two academic examples: Allen Forte, The American Popular Ballad of the

Golden Era, 1924-1950 (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1995), a study

which employs modern analytical procedures to explore the large repertoire of

beautiful love songs written during the heyday of American musical theatre, big band,

and Tin Pan Alley; Lewis A. Erenberg, Swingin’ the Dream: Big Band Jazz and the

Rebirth of American Culture (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1999), a book

which provides valuable historical narratives of the audience response and their

interaction with musicians in the swing era.


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2 See Pekka Gronow, ‘The record industry comes to the Orient’, Ethnomusicology,

25:2 (1981), p. 251. Gronow’s pioneering work on the earlier years of the record

industry provides precious and summarised information of the expansion of major

record companies and their activities in Asia and North Africa. For more details of

the business of these companies in other regions, see also ‘The record industry: the

growth of a mass medium’, Popular Music, 3 (1983), pp. 53-75.

3 Simon Frith, ‘The popular music industry’ in Simon Frith, Will Straw and John

Stree (eds), Pop and Rock (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001), p. 26.

4 Ibid., p. 35.

5 Keith Negus, Popular Music in Theory: an Introduction (Oxford: Polity Press, 1996),

p. 36.

6 See Charles Hamm, Music in the New World (London: W. W. Norton and Company,

1983), pp. 371-2. For another account of how the utilisation of the microphone and

amplifier in radio broadcast influenced song styles, see also Hughson F. Mooney,

‘Songs, singers and society, 1890-1954’, American Quarterly, 60:3 (1954), pp. 228-9.

7 For more details about the association between technology developments and the

emergence of rock music, see Simon Frith, ‘The industrialization of popular music’,

in James Lull (ed.), Popular Music and Communication, 2nd edn (London: Sage

Publication, 1992), pp. 58-62. See also Richard A. Peterson, ‘Why 1955? Explaining

the advent of rock music’, Popular Music, 9:1 (1990), pp. 100-102.

8 Frith, ‘The industrialization of popular music’, p. 70.

9 Notes taken from a lecture by Simon Frith at the University of Stirling, 11 March

2003.


71

10 Peter Manuel indicates that the heavy reliance on standardised formulae is one of

the undeniable features of Western popular music which draws bitter contempt from

scholars like Theodor W. Adorno and Max Horkheimer. See Peter Manuel, Popular

Music of Non-Western World: An Introduction Survey (Oxford: Oxford University

Press, 1988), p. 10.

11 See Simon Frith, Performing Rites: on the Value of Popular Music (Cambridge,

Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1996), pp. 84-5.

12 For a brief history of the acquisitions, mergers and joint-ventures among major

record companies and more details of the various investments in different areas made

by these transnational corporations, see Keith Negus, Producing Pop: Culture and

Conflict in the Popular Music Industry (London: Arnold, 1992), pp. 1-4. See also

Gronow, ‘The record industry comes to the Orient’, pp. 254-270.

13 See Negus, Producing Pop, p. 5.

14 See, Theodor W. Adorno and Max Horkheimer, Dialectic of Enlightment, trans.

John Cumming (New York: The Continuum Publishing Company, 1998), p. 163. For

a concise guide and criticism on Adorno’s theory on popular music, see Richard

Middleton, Studying Popular Music (London: Open University Press, 1990), ch. 2.

15 See Paul M. Hirsch, ‘Processing fads and fashions: an organization-set analysis of

culture industry systems’, American Journal of Sociology, 77:4 (1972), pp. 639-59.

16 For more details of each link in the decision chain, see John Ryan and Richard

Peterson, ‘The product image: the fate of creativity in country music songwriting’, in

James S. Ettema and D. Charles Whitney (eds), Individuals in Mass Media

Organizations: Creativity and Constraint (London: Sage Publication, 1982), p. 12-21.


72

17 See Negus, Popular Music in Theory (Oxford: Polity Press, 1996), p. 59.

18 See Jean-Pierre Vignolle, ‘Mixing genres and reaching the public: the production of

popular music’, Social Science Information, 19:1 (1980), pp. 87-88, 101.

19 Vic Gammon, ‘Problems of method in the historical studies of popular music’, in

David Horn and Philip Tagg (eds), Popular Music perspectives (Göteberg and

London: IASPM, 1982), p. 16.

20 Ibid., p. 18.

21 EMI (China) ceased operation in 1949 and its internal documents were then either

discarded or confiscated by the Chinese Communist. The Japanese controlled RCA-

Victor (China) was taken over by the Nationalist Party after the Sino-Japanese War in

1945, but the business never started again. Great China was captured by the Chinese

Communist when Shanghai was ‘liberated’ in 1949. It is known that all the facilities

of these three majors were reallocated for other uses and a ‘People’s Record Factory’

(Remin changpian chang) was formed later under the instruction of the new regime,

but the whereabouts of these companies’ internal documents remain unknown.

22 Before receiving contact details of informants from Chen and Lee, efforts were

made at thte early stage of fieldwork to approach elderly people who gather on

weekday afternoons to listen to and dance to ‘Shanghai oldies’ in a community hall

located in the former Frech Concession in Shanghai. Although it is believed that they

used to be fans of Shanghai popular song and might be able to offer precious

information, when approached, they appeared to be suspicious of the motive of such a

study about ‘decadent and pornographic’ music and claimed that they knew nothing

about Shanghai pop.


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23 Deacon, David, Michael Pickering, Peter Golding and Graham Murdock,

Researching Communications (London: Arnold, 1999), p. 30.

24 Gammon, ‘Problems of method in the historical studies of popular music’, p. 29.

25 Whichever comes first, as Vignolle puts, ‘at all events, much toing-and-froing is

needed for a satisfactory result to be achieved at the prosodic level.’ See Vignolle,

‘Mixing genres and reaching the public’, p. 88.

26 It is not difficult to find a book titled such as ‘How to Write a Hit Song’ which

explains, as the author would claim, everything would-be songwriters have to know at

the stage of composition, and usually advises them to let arrangers and producers do

the rest once their work is done. Obviously, all they have to know is the craft of

writing a tune and words.

27 Antoine Hennion, ‘The production of success: an anti-musicology of the pop song’,

Popular Music, 3 (1983), p. 163.

28 It is particularly true during the days, before the arrival of the technology of multi-

track recording and magnetic tape, when a singer had to sing synchronically to the

accompaniment of a musical band during a recording session. It would not be

uncommon if any of them did not follow exactly the musical notations but rather

interpreted the song in a more extemporaneous manner. Modification of the original

arrangement and improvisation were not only created by the singer’s or bandsmen’s

own talents but also, undoubtedly, inspired by everyone’s reaction during the session.

29 See Frith, Performing Rites, pp. 204-5. Frith’s argument ‘is not just that in

listening to popular music we are listening to a performance, but, further, that


74

“listening” itself is a performance’. For a better understanding of this view on how

pop performance works, see ibid. pp. 203-25.

30 See Ryan and Peterson, ‘The product image’, p. 15.

31 Certainly the possibility of altering the content of a historical recording with the aid

of modern digital recording technology is not considered here.

32 A case in point is the notable and controversial Shanghai popular song ‘When will

the gentleman come back again’ (Heri jun zailai), which was banned by the

Nationalist Party, the Communists and the Japanese military in the 1940s.

33 Rick Altman, ‘Cinema and popular song: the lost tradition’, in Pamela Robertson

Wojcik and Arthur Knight (eds), Soundtrack Available: Essays on Film and Popular

Music (Durham and London: Duke University Press, 2001), p. 23. In this article on

film music, Altman considers ‘classical’ music ‘wordless’ because art song and opera,

which obvious have words, are not regularly used in film music.

34 Maurice Halbwachs argues that the musical memory of those who have no

knowledge of musical notation is always attached to metamusical experience; the

melody is remembered because the words are remembered. See Alfred Schutz,

‘Making music together: a study in social relationship’, in Arvid Broderson (ed.),

Collective Papers II: Studies in Social Theory (The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff, 1964), p.

164.

35 See Frith, Performing Rites, p. 160. Frith gives an example of the TV pop quiz

show in which panellists usually cannot identify a lyric that winds along the bottom of

the screen but they can immediately recall it with the help of a couple of notes of the

music.


75

36 In Hennion’s opinion, when one whistles the melody of a popular song, though

unconscious, it is in fact the accompaniment that ‘gives intensity to the recollection of

the melody’. See Hennion, ‘The production of success’, p. 171.

37 These perspectives are drawn from four competing explanatory models for the

analysis of Lied summarised by Kofi Agawu from other scholars’ previous studies.

For more details of these models and comments on the problems of their application,

see Kofi Agawu ‘Theory and practice in the analysis of the nineteenth-century lied’,

Music Analysis, 11:1 (1992) pp. 5-8.

76

Chapter Three

The Society

Although originally a muddy wetland outside the walled old Chinese town,

this area turned into the core of an international metropolis and the most important

city in China by the twentieth century. This area was a place where old China

encountered Western culture and innovations, a place where Chinese people adapted

themselves to Western lifestyle while maintained their long-standing traditions, and a

place where traditional performing arts were repackaged and new forms of

entertainment arose. It is Shanghai, the place where Chinese popular music in

modern times started. Before exploring the Shanghai popular music industry in the

1930s and 1940s, the platform on which musical products, Shanghai popular songs,

were manufactured and circulated, it is essential to understand the society where the

platform was built. This chapter introduces the backdrop against which modern

Chinese popular music was created.

I. The start of modern Shanghai

Despite its status as the largest in China and one of the six biggest cities in the

world at the beginning of the twentieth century, Shanghai was small in the sense of

the actual area of its urban district. By the end of the Republican era in 1949, the city

was only 31.8 square miles, including the former foreign concessions which covered

an area of only 13 square miles. It was in this area, originally meant to be a small

piece of land reserved for Westerners but unexpectedly opened for Chinese and

Chapter Three The Society

77

expanded several times, that two cultures confronted and intermingled, providing a

production base for Shanghai popular song. The pre-treaty-port Shanghai had been

long regarded as a fishing village, as described in a guidebook written for foreigners

and published in 1934, ‘little more than an anchorage for junks, with a few villages

scattered along the low, muddy banks of the river’.1 In fact Shanghai had already

attained the status of a walled town in 1554. The walled town became a third-class

county in the early nineteenth century and enjoyed commercial prosperity, due to the

thriving cotton trade in the Qing period. What the guidebook depicted, before the

International Settlement and the French Concession were founded in the mid-

nineteenth century, is actually the scene in the northern outskirts of the county town,

an area with a rural landscape of rice and cotton fields, uncultivated wetland and

meandering waterways. The countryside that later on developed into the metropolitan

district of Shanghai is exactly where modern Shanghai arose.

Westerners recognised the potential of Shanghai as early as the 1830s. In

1832, the supercargo Hugh Hamilton Lindsay sailed up the coast of China from

Macao, on a commercial mission entrusted by the British East India Company to

investigate the possibility of opening trade in the north. After being refused entry to

Xiamen (Amoy), Fuzhou and Ningbo in succession, he was given a hearing by the

Chinese local authority in Shanghai. This first recorded attempt by Westerners to

open Shanghai to foreign trade was fruitless as the Chinese authorities ruled that

foreign trade should be confined to Guangzhou (Canton). However, Lindsay noticed

the favourable geographic location of the city and indicated in his report to the

company that Shanghai had great possibilities as a commercial centre.2 He would

probably have never anticipated that Shanghai, together with the three cities to which

he was denied access, would be opened due to a military engagement ten years later.


78

In May 1839, the Chinese authorities in Canton confiscated and destroyed

large quantities of opium from British warehouses, which British merchants were

importing illegally from India to be sold to Chinese dealers. This incident and other

ensuing conflicts finally led to the First Opium War (1840-42) between China and

Britain. After sporadic land and naval battles, the war ended in complete victory for

Britain and The Treaty of Nanjing was signed on board a British warship on 29

August 1842, under which Guangzhou, Xiamen, Fuzhou, Ningbo and Shanghai were

to be open to foreign trade. Thus, these five cities became the so-called ‘treaty ports’.

On 8 October 1843, the Supplementary Treaty was signed in Humen (Bogue), which

specified terms and detailed how the British could move in. According to the

Supplement, the local Chinese authority in accord with the British consul in each

treaty port should designate a specific area where the British could reside and a

limited zone within which foreigners could travel.3

In Shanghai, following the formal announcement of the opening of Shanghai

to foreign trade made by George Balfour, the first British consul in Shanghai, on 14

November 1843, the British started to seek a suitable site for dwellings and

storehouses. Finally, the Land Regulations (Dipi zhangcheng) was signed by the

Shanghai daotai (‘circuit intendant’) Gong Mujiu and Balfour in 1845, as an

agreement which provided a basis for the legal status of the foreign settlement in

Shanghai. Under this agreement, although foreigners were not allowed to purchase

land in law, technically they could negotiate permanent leases with Chinese

landowners within the designated area of 138 acres in the northern suburb outside the

county town, stretching from the Bund in the east to Barrier Road in the west, and

from the Yanjingbang Creek in the south to Lijiachang (at the confluence of the

Huangpu River and the Suzhou Creek) in the north. Although it was an area reserved


79

for the British, in the spirit of free trade, all nationalities and their consuls were

welcome to the settlement to develop their business.

Subsequent to the British action, the United States and France also signed

treaties with China on 3 July and 24 October 1844 respectively and acquired the same

right of trade in treaty ports. In Shanghai, after the creation of the British Settlement

came the formation of the French Concession and the American Settlement. On 6

April 1849, the Shanghai daotai Lin Gui and the first French consul in Shanghai,

Louis Montigny, reached an agreement that the area of 164 acres between the Chinese

city and the British Settlement would be allocated for the French. Unlike the British

and the French settlements, rather than an officially designated area, the original

American Settlement was formed based on the American Episcopal Church Mission

established in Hongkou, a district north to the Suzhou Creek, under the direction of

Bishop William J. Boone in 1848. It was not until February 1854 that the American

national flag was raised in the district and not until June 1863 was the boundary of the

Settlement, which enclosed an area of 1,309 acres, officially defined by the Shanghgai

daotai Huang Fang and the American consul George Frederick Seward. Three

months later, a new community of interest, the International Settlement, was formed

resulting from the merger of the British and American Settlements on 21 September

1863. Although a proposal was once drawn up that the French Concession and the

International Settlement should be united, it was never realised because the French

insisted on the maintenance of a separate concession in Shanghai.

Thus, foreigners started constructing their own town and set up administrative

institutions in Shanghai within the boundaries of the allocated area, which expanded

several times and finally reached a total of 13 square miles in 1914, and has remained

unchanged ever since. In July 1854 foreign residents held a public meeting to amend


80

the Land Regulations and choose the first elected Municipal Council. In September

1869, the revised regulations were formally approved by the Chinese government in

concert with foreign envoys in Beijing and became the legal basis for the organisation

of an administrative government in the International Settlement – Shanghai Municipal

Council. Under the revised regulations, ratepayers in the settlement elected

councillors to form the municipal council and held the ratepayers’ meeting annually to

approve the report of the council and pass the budget. Although officially the French

Concession was governed by a separate French Municipal Council (Conseil

d’Administration Municipale de la Concession Française de Changhai), established in

May 1862, and not subjected to the Land Regulations, in practice the administration

of the concession was similar to that of the International Settlement, except that the

French Consul General still held the power of veto over the Council’s decisions.

These two separate municipal entities governed the core of the modern Shanghai city

until the settlement was abolished in 1943.

As the original Land Regulations prohibited Chinese people from renting or

purchasing property within the boundaries of foreign settlements, from 1845 on

Chinese residents gradually left the area reserved for foreigners. Except as domestic

servants or in service for trades, Chinese were generally excluded in foreign

settlements and therefore the area became almost segregated. However, two revolts

against the Chinese Qing dynasty unexpectedly steered the Chinese back to the

foreign areas, which led to the official abandonment of the segregation by the British

consul and made way for the formation of a Sino-foreign city.

The uprising on 7 September 1853 organised by the Fujian-based secret

society Small Swords (Xiaodaohui) started to drive the first surge of refugees into

foreign settlements. As the rebels seized the county town of Shanghai and continued


81

to attack other county towns nearby, throwing Shanghai and its vicinity in turmoil for

seventeen months, Chinese people from the county town of Shanghai and those from

neighbouring occupied towns flooded into foreign settlements, camping along the

Bund or staying in wooden boats off quays.4 Consequently, some foreigners started

their business to build dwellings for the refugees. Persuaded by the majority of the

foreign merchants who were trying to make capital out of the chaotic circumstances,

the British consul Rutherford Alock, though concerned about the security of the

foreign community, agreed to abolish residential segregation. The decision was

adopted into the Land Regulations and passed by the public meeting in 1854.

Following this new policy towards refugees there came a boom in the business of

building and renting houses to Chinese people. By 1860, most of the 8,740 houses in

the British settlement were owned by the British and Americans but occupied by

Chinese residents.5 The other driving force that caused population mobility into the

foreign areas in Shanghai was the fifteen-year long Taiping Rebellion led by Hong

Xiuquan. Beginning in the southern province Guangxi in 1850 and spreading

throughout most of the central and lower Yangtze region, the insurgents occupied

Nanjing in March 1853 and established their capital there until it was crushed in

1864.6 While the capture of Nanjing had already let loose crowds of people moving

from the Jiangnan region to Shanghai, Taiping’s several attacks on the county town

and foreign settlements during 1860 to 1862 caused more to pour into the foreign

areas. By the end of the rebellion, over 110,000 Chinese people had moved into the

foreign settlements in Shanghai.7

Officially approved to move in, the Chinese population in the International

Settlement and the French Concession kept growing and finally far exceeded the

number of foreign residents, yet Chinese ratepayers had no voice at either of the


82

ratepayers’ meetings, nor could they be elected as representatives in the governing

councils. This political inequality did not change until the second half of the 1920s

when two Chinese Ratepayers’ Associations were formed in the respective foreign

settlements and Chinese members elected by the ratepayer’s associations were added

to their respective municipal councils. It was first in the French Concession that two

Chinese representatives were added to its municipal council in 1926 and three more

the next year, which then totalled five Chinese out of a total membership of

seventeen. Along the same path, in the International Settlement three Chinese

members joined the Shanghai Municipal Council in 1928 and the Chinese

membership was increased to five out of a total of fourteen in 1930.8 Up until the end

of 1941, foreign concessions in Shanghai were mainly under Western control;

Chinese councillors had no power or influence over important issues, such as finance,

public utilities or rate assessment.

In January 1942, barely a month after the attack on Pearl Harbor, Japan seized

and reorganised the Shanghai Municipal Council by appointing K. Ogazaki, an

official from the Japanese Embassy, as the chairman. Except two obviously non-

Anglo-American European councillors, A. Glathe and R. Von der Crone, the rest of

the members were either Japanese or ‘traitors to the Chinese nation-race’ (hanjian).

In the French Concession, although the governing organisation remained intact, the

French Municipal Council lost its autonomy and virtually operated on the instructions

of the Japanese. At this stage, both municipal councils existed in name only. In 1943,

forced by Japan, on 31 July France returned the French Concession to the Chinese

government – the Japanese-controlled puppet Wang Jingwei regime. The executive

power over the International Settlement and the ownership of public facilities and

other assets in the settlement were also transferred to the Chinese government on 1


83

August. Hence, the Japanese military and the Wang’s regime ruled the whole of

Shanghai until the end of the Sino-Japanese War in August 1945. Four years after it

was returned to the Chinese National Government, Shanghai was ‘liberated’ by the

Chinese Communist in May 1949.

Whereas the designation of foreign settlements turned the natural landscape in

the northern outskirts of the Chinese city from rural fields into populated towns, it

was the abolition of residential segregation that decided how the populated towns

would develop, under the Western administration but inhabited mainly by Chinese

people, into a metropolis where Western values and innovations were imported and

acclimatised to Chinese society.

II. Social changes in Shanghai

The economic prosperity and its ambiguous political status attracted a great

variety of both Westerners and Chinese from outside the Shanghai area and literally

every corner of the world. It is the only one of the original five treaty ports that kept

growing and promised to be China’s biggest city. The city not only served as a stage

for traders, entrepreneurs, diplomats and politicians but also, as it required neither

visa nor passport to enter, offered the dispossessed, the ambitious and the criminals a

fresh start. 9 Among foreigners, the three largest contingents, the British, the

American and the French, whose concessions made up the city centre, were the most

influential. Although the British and American concessions merged to become the

International Settlement as early as 1863 and all nationalities were welcomed to come

to the settlement, up to the 1930s the Shanghai Municipal Council was still dominated

by the British and Americans. More Japanese people moved to Shanghai after the


84

Treaty of Shimonoseki signed in 1896, which granted Japan the same rights and

privileges as other foreigners in China, including that of mining, building railways

and factories. Later in the Republican era, White Russian émigrés, who fled the

Bolshevik Revolution in 1917, and stateless Jewish refugees, especially those from

Europe who arrived after 1930, also disembarked at the city and became the two

largest sectors of foreign population. In addition to these major constituent

nationalities of Shanghai’s foreign communities, there were other expatriates from

different countries. According to a census conducted in 1930, there had already been

forty-eight distinct nationalities represented in Shanghai.10

Although it was foreigners, particularly those of the three treaty powers, who

laid the foundation of modern Shanghai, setting up the administration system and

importing Western novelties and commercial practices, the ever-increasing Chinese

population, who far outnumbered foreigners, were indeed the majority of the

inhabitants of the city.11 All those who had migrated to Shanghai had their stories to

tell. As early as 1933, in his book Shanghai Life (Shanghai shenghuo), Xu Guozhen

has already recognised two major driving forces behind the immigration: living and

entertaining.12 While millionaires from the interior who fancied an extravagant

lifestyle came to Shanghai for pleasure, the penniless from the impoverished

surrounding countryside or hinterland flocked to Shanghai to survive. Those who had

accumulated a great fortune might not have the opportunity in their hometowns to ride

in a motorcar, to visit various entertainment venues full of novelties and to indulge in

all sorts of Chinese and Western cuisines – only in Shanghai was it possible to

experience a life of luxury and glamour as much as one could afford. As for those

who could hardly eke out even a scanty livelihood in other provinces, or who craved

for more than what they could earn, Shanghai, as China’s largest industrial and


85

commercial centre in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, appeared to be

the Land of Promise to them, though many destitute immigrants never hit the jackpot,

but rather ended up being rickshaw coolies or begging on the street. Apart from these

two reasons, immigrants moved to Shanghai for yet other reasons. To give a few

examples, political dissidents fled to the foreign concessions to take shelter,

provincial youths came to Western educational institutions in search of a broader

intellectual horizon, young women unfettered themselves from conventions of

decorum to seek the freedom in this modern metropolis, and criminals travelled to this

bustling port to continue their illegal activities. Whether taking the initiative or being

forced, all who trekked tirelessly to and pinned their hopes on Shanghai, as Hanchao

Lu pinpoints, ‘had a simple, shared goal: to find a better life.’13

The confluence of different groups of people in Shanghai, from diverse

backgrounds with all sorts of wishes to fulfil, on the one hand inevitably created a city

full of strangers competing for survival, which led to the cataclysmic change in moral

standards and traditional social order, but on the other hand it also constructed a

showground full of possibilities and imaginations, where people developed their

careers free from the burden of traditional values and norms. In this metropolis the

Shanghainese developed their unique way of life and personality, which contrasted

sharply with those in the rest of China.14

Following Westerners’ lead

The administration of foreign settlements in Shanghai imbued Chinese people,

either those who had moved in within foreign boundaries or those who still resided in

the Chinese town, with a new sense of citizenship. The public participation in the


86

management of the settlements, as Zhang Zhongli indicates, demonstrated a contrast

between the two systems and provided an alternative option of municipal

administration for Chinese people.15 Conventionally, the magistrate (zhixian) in a

Chinese county town is regarded as the so-called ‘parental official’ (fumuguan) and

residents are ‘filial civilians’ (zimin), who are not allowed to participate in the

municipal administration. Residents are merely dwellers rather than citizens of the

town. On the contrary, foreign settlements in Shanghai are built on the Western

system, in which citizens enjoy a degree of autonomy, though only property owners

and taxpayers are qualified to vote, and the governing council acts on behalf and for

the benefit of its citizens. Under the influence of Westerners, Chinese residents in the

concessions gradually realised their obligation to observe bylaws and dropped

deplorable habits, such as disposing of household waste, defecating or urinating,

wherever they wanted.

In the Chinese county town, seeing the convenience brought by public

facilities and administration in the foreign settlements, some of the gentry put forward

proposals to emulate the Western model of municipal administration. They publicised

propositions in newspapers, such as recruiting street cleaners and wardens to maintain

public health and sanitation, as well as installing street lamps for the purpose of public

safety and security.16 In 1895, the Bureau of Road Engineering (Malu gongchengju)

was set up in Nanshi, the southern district of the county town, to clear an area ravaged

by fire in the preceding year and construct new roads. In addition to the construction

and maintenance of roads, the bureau later assumed the responsibility for all matters

around the roads it built, such as granting planning permission. After 1900, this

system was adopted in other Chinese districts, including Zhabei (to the north of the


87

International Settlement), Pudong (the district in the east bank of Huangpu River) and

Huxi (west Shanghai).17

Just as Chinese people learnt from the Western municipal administration to

transform themselves from dwellers to citizens, so they accepted and made the most

of Western innovations, following a process of irrational resistance, careful

observation and understanding. For example, there was no gas or electricity in

Shanghai before Westerners came. When street gas lamps were introduced in 1865,

people thought gas was fire from underground (dihuo) and would infuse poison into

human bodies when walking on the street. When proposals were made for the

introduction of electricity in 1882, they thought electricity was gathered from

lightning in the sky, and thus using electricity was irreverence to God and they would

be struck by lightning as a punishment. Nevertheless, after they understood those

innovations were harmless but convenient to everyday life, they simply embraced the

modern technology. In 1893, Shanghai even had one of the largest electric plants in

the world.

Coexistence of two ways of life

While all kinds of modern technology and amenities, such as electricity, gas,

running water, telephones, trams and automobiles, were introduced to Shanghai soon

after their appearance in other Western major cities. However, Chinese traditions and

habits still existed in people’s everyday life. An intellectual who worked for a foreign

company in a skyscraper and went to church on Sundays might live in a narrow

mezzanine room, always purchase daily necessities from corner shops in the

neighbourhood, and enjoyed conversations taking place outside a hot water shop.18


88

Among a range of coexistent habits and traditions is the calendar. Although

the Chinese republican government, which was established after the 1911 revolution,

had abrogated the traditional Chinese lunar calendar (yinli) in favour of the Western

Gregorian calendar (yangli, ‘solar calendar’) as the official calendar (guoli, ‘national

calendar’), the lunar calendar was actually still in use. The lunar and the solar

systems both appeared in the free calendars printed and given away by most shops

and department stores. Even those released by the China National Goods Company

(Zhongguo guohuo gongsi), which shouldered the awesome responsibility of

promoting ‘national goods’ (guohuo), were in the form of a ‘mixture of yin and yang’

(yin yang hebi). Sticking to the time-honoured tradition, Chinese people continued to

celebrate the New Year according to the lunar calendar and even the foreign

community generally took days off at that period, while the Chinese governmental

offices all functioned as usual. Chinese daily newspapers in Shanghai also observed a

two-day holiday at Chinese New Year, though small extras might be issued.

However, some Chinese newspaper offices did strive to catch the spirit of the Chinese

government’s decree and newspapers were duly printed, but unfortunately, as the

delivery staff generally failed to show up, newspapers would not usually reach the

readers.19

In such a fashion, while the Shanghainese celebrated Chinese New Year and

other traditional feast days such as Mid-Autumn Festival and Dragon Boat Festival

according to the lunar calendar, they revelled in parties over Christmas and New Year

in the Gregorian calendar. Although not everyone could afford to celebrate both

Chinese and Western festivals, the coexistence of two calendars reflects the

adaptability of the Shanghainese to the new culture and their perseverance with the

old tradition. Just as an article commented in a humorous manner,


89

one would prepare two sets of clothes, one being a Western suit and the other

a Chinese outfit; one would marry two wives, one being a modern lady in

high heels and the other an old-fashioned foot-bound woman; one would

learn two ways of showing courtesy, one being a handshake or bow and the

other raising high in front of the chest a fist made with both hands and then

lowering it or kowtow.20

It might not necessarily be true in all cases, yet it illustrated a picture in which

two ways of life could be practised simultaneously.

Towards luxurious life

Some customs survived while the new way of life offered more choice and

added variety to the old society, yet some traditional values were no longer cherished.

For instance, in ancient Chinese thinking, living a frugal life and not showing off

one’s wealth was held as a virtue. People were encouraged to practice austerity:

clothes that could keep bodies warm and houses that could shut out wind and rain

were sufficient for their domestic life. Moreover, it was the norm that a person’s way

of life, such as living conditions, clothing and public behaviour, should match his or

her status in society. While the magistrate of a county town travelled in a sedan chair

shouldered by four carriers, with a well-decorated red roof and blue woollen curtains,

in theory an ordinary person without an official title, however wealthy, should only

ride a modest one carried by no more than two men. However, in Shanghai, these

century-old beliefs had been gradually given up with the rise of the new commercial

culture in the city.

Shanghai welcomed all visitors and immigrants by offering them a vision that

once a fortune was accumulated in hand and all the requisite accoutrements put on,


90

they could easily climb the social ladder and ascend to the upper class, despite their

origins and previous occupations. The boundaries between social classes were no

longer impenetrable. As tasteful clothing, lifestyle and consuming habits would

facilitate the upward movement of individuals to a higher social stratum, people

purchased high-quality, extravagant items of merchandise or services to gain a further

boost to their identity as urbanites, who could afford a modern life in Shanghai.

Acquiring material goods and keeping up to date with the latest fashion became an

essential part of urban living in Shanghai. Consumption of excessive luxury was no

more considered against the ethics, but rather perceived as a means of self-realisation

and an honour to win.21 In a satirical newspaper commentary on bad customs in

Shanghai, the writer, under an interesting pseudonym of ‘the guest who has watched

foreign phenomena in Shanghai for nineteen years’, gave a list of seven matters which

the Shanghainese considered disgraceful:

Not wearing glamorous clothing;

Not riding the sedan chair;

Flirting with a cheaper whore;

Not having expensive food;

Travelling by wheelbarrow;

Not having an official cap (an honorary official title could be obtained by

contributing a certain amount of money to the Treasury);

Taking the third-class seat in a theatre.22

Thus, spending enormous amounts to flaunt one’s wealth or to pretend to be rich was

undoubtedly appropriate and failing to do so seemed to be shameful.


91

Nevertheless, apart from mindlessly pursuing showy extravagance, the

Shanghainese could also choose what they really needed from a wide range of

commodities, according to their purchasing ability. As more objects of Western

material culture were introduced to the city, either brought by foreign residents for

personal needs or imported by Chinese merchants in commercial concerns, the

Chinese population gradually adopted some aspects of the lifestyle of Western

residents and their taste of fashion. With the increasing division of labour and the

commercialisation of the supply of household goods and daily necessities, a wider

range of products were available on the market at different quality levels and in varied

price ranges. For example, people could buy imported bed linen and pillowcases in

the Sincere Company, or find high-quality domestic manufactured products in Sanyou

Company’s showroom on Nanjing Road, or get some mediocre substitutes at the linen

shop in an alleyway.23 Moreover, in Shanghai, by virtue of using mechanised

production facilities, commercial products of acceptable quality were manufactured in

large quantities and thus sold at affordable prices to the general public, particularly

low- to middle-income populations. In other words, even factory workers were able

to acquire mass-manufactured commodities to maintain a minimum level of comfort

within their means.

Changing social relations

Western practices and commercial prosperity brought the Shanghainese

convenience and material comfort that people in the rest of the country could not

enjoy, yet the complicated interpersonal relations in this big city also created more

tension that people from other areas would find difficult to deal with. A scene from

the novel A Short History of Civilisation (Wenming xiaoshi) serves as an example.


92

There was a fight in a teahouse arising from an unsuccessful mediation of an

extramarital affair. An expelled female student of a Western-style school clad in

casual-style clothing with showy jewellery and a clerk hired by a Western trading

firm, to whom the young lady was the mistress, were about to break up. Unable to

end this immoral relationship satisfactorily, the couple’s original introducer, a cart

driver who made money by arranging such love affairs, engaged a runner from the

detector’s office of the Shanghai Municipal Police to intervene in the dispute. After

entangled in a scuffle, the couple were dragged by the runner and then arrested by two

policemen, a Chinese and a red-turbaned, dark-faced foreigner, both presumably

called on by the runner. The couple were taken to the police station, and if this case

could not be settled there, they would be transferred to a foreign judge in the Mixed

Court, which dealt with legal problems concerning Chinese people. Seated at the next

table in the teahouse was a provincial degree-holder, together with his son and three

disciples, all of landed gentry background. Shocked by the young lady’s indecorous

demeanour and speech, the ensuing fight and the interference of the runner and

policemen, only after overhearing some gossipy conversations from other customers

in the teahouse did they figure out what had just happened. 24

The old master took these four young country gentlemen to Shanghai with a

view to expanding their knowledge and witnessing Western civilisation; however,

they were confronted with an unexpected cast of unconventional characters in such an

absurd scene even before starting their exploration of Western amenities and

educational institutions in this city. Initiating an extramarital relationship through a

‘part-time’ dating agent and involving the police and perhaps finally a foreign judge

in ending the affair were things they had never heard of or learnt to deal with. As

Wen-hsin Yeh commented, apart from wonders and novelties of Western material


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goods, there were ‘open violation of moral norms, blatant transgressions of gender

roles and foreign assertions of political authority’ in full view in the public places in

Shanghai.25 All of these were simply beyond the understanding of those who came

from other areas and still held traditional Chinese ethics as moral principals that

governed interpersonal relationships. Moreover, these country gentlemen could not

even imagine that cohabitation, choosing one’s own spouse or divorce were socially

acceptable in Shanghai, particularly in foreign concessions. Whereas in the interior,

elopement was an offence and once detected the running off couple would be

convicted, in Shanghai it would not be the case as long as the two made the choice of

their own free will. Shanghai was thus considered the paradise of eloping couples, as

well as a place to pursue romantic love for those who opposed traditional arranged

marriage. In the early twentieth century, novels depicting plots in violation of

traditional expectations about proper decorum, for example, a monk getting married

or a widow falling in love, were all published in Shanghai, because it was the only

place at that time where novels of these subjects would be accepted.26

Contempt for outsiders

Besides those unfamiliar social relations, people from other areas would

encounter the Shanghainese utter contempt for outsiders. Due to a sense of regional

superiority, people in Shanghai showed a scornful attitude towards those Chinese

from the hinterland. They referred to those who were not local to Shanghai as

waidiren (‘people from other areas’). Although the word waidiren is literally in no

sense derogatory, in Shanghainese eyes ‘people from other areas’ were simply ‘people

from the countryside’ (xiangxiaren), which implied the backward, uncivilised masses.

As waidiren or xiangxiaren, who only came for a visit or had just moved in the city,


94

were not as adept as the local Shanghainese at coping with the fast-paced and ever-

changing life in the city, these newcomers were always treated by locals with disdain

in an unreasonable manner. For example, Xu Guozhen once witnessed an incident,

which he could not understand in the first place but would regard as normal after

staying in Shanghai for several years. In a cinema, seeing a gentleman seated next to

him strike a match to light a cigarette, a chap asked, ‘May I borrow the fire, please?’

Aware of his non-local accent, the gentleman turned the head, stared ferociously at

him and replied in a harsh voice, ‘Borrow the fire? When would you return it?’ The

‘fire’ was certainly not lent out because the chap did not ask in a favourable manner.

In Shanghai one was expected to ‘beg for’ rather than ‘borrow’.27 The gentleman was

probably also from the hinterland and only arrived somewhat earlier than the innocent

chap, but several months’ urban life turned him into a snobbish, aloof local.

The Shanghainese sense of superiority can be understood as self-

congratulation for the achievement of survival in a highly competitive environment.

As Shanghai is an immigrant city, in a sense, except those who had lived in the

original muddy wetland or the Chinese town for generations, almost all Shanghainese

are waidiren. 28 Once settled and acquainted with this city, people considered

themselves superior and would sever their relations with all the matters concerning

their past. In Yu Ling’s stage play Shanghai Night (Ye Shanghai), a wealthy widow

who had just fled to Shanghai from the countryside turned down those who tried to

persuade her to rent a flat so that she could make a profit by subletting the rooms.

Whereas upon arrival she considered it meaningless to make a fortune since her

husband had died, half a year later she successfully transformed herself into a cunning

sub-landlady, who, when approached by relatives from her hometown for help, would

reply coldly that those country folks’ difficulties were none of her business.29


95

The Shanghainese arrogance and their contempt for those from the countryside

can also be found in the path of development of the modern Shanghainese dialect. In

the first few decades after Shanghai was opened to become a treaty port, the original

form of Shanghainese dialect, a branch of the Songjiang dialect with a Pudong accent,

was still commonly used in either foreign concessions or the Chinese town. However,

adopting expressions and idioms of the Suzhou and Ningbo dialects, brought by

numerous immigrants in the late nineteen century, as well as incorporating some

words from Western languages, the dialect underwent some changes and a modern

Shanghainese dialect was gradually formed. The modern dialect, spoken in the

foreign concessions and the surrounding areas, then became a mark of urban

superiority, while the original Shanghainese dialect somehow came to be relegated as

the rural tongue. Crossing the Huangpu River to Pudong on the east bank, one could

only find a slight difference in people’s accent there, but the difference was sufficient

to make the urban Shanghainese from the west bank feel that they were in the

countryside.30 Therefore, to the local Shanghainese, those who did not speak the

‘modern’ Shanghainese dialect were simply xiangxiaren. The development of the

modern Shanghainese dialect demonstrates the city’s acceptability of outsider and

outside influences; nevertheless, outsiders were accepted on condition that they

integrated into the society by following the gradually formed rules of social behaviour

in this city. If the chap in the cinema had ‘begged for’ the fire with the proper

Shanghai accent, the snobbish gentleman would not have treated him in such an

arrogant manner.


96

III. New forms of mass entertainment

In such a highly populated metropolis and immigrant society, the physical

distance between individuals seemed to decrease, yet people were actually becoming

mentally distant from one another because of more frequent but shorter contact with

others from all walks of life and incessant changes of roles one had to play from dawn

till dusk. Confronted with complicated social relations and new rules of social

behaviour, the immigrants in Shanghai might not develop a strong affiliation or share

beliefs and values with one another as those in more closed rural communities.

Therefore, there was a need for communal interests and subjects of daily

conversations to hold distant individual members of the general public together.

Along with the immigrants’ pursuit of social affiliation came a range of mass

entertainment. Wen-hsin Yeh argues that modern advertising in Shanghai, which

played a crucial role in the construction of urban consumer culture in the Republican

period, involved both mobilising the conventional communication approaches

towards the production of new meanings and adopting new-style media to disseminate

age-old ideas. For example, silk retailers in Shanghai hired story-singers to broadcast

commercials in the form of tanci on radio; tobacco companies engaged Chinese artists

to made calendar-poster advertising paintings (yuefenpai guangao hua) featuring

Chinese women with shapely figures and seductive smiles.31 Similar to advertising

for consumer commodities, mass entertainment in Shanghai included contemporary

ideas conveyed by conventional media and old subjects repackaged in a new format.

The rise in popular readings and redevelopment of stage performance are two good

examples.


97

Popular reading

The late nineteenth century in Shanghai saw the emergence of pictorial

magazines, which, quite different from ordinary newspapers or periodicals, featured

far more photographic or hand-painted pictures than text. With the aid of graphic

illustrations, these pictorials, lowbrow but with wide circulations, could spread the

latest news and general knowledge in a straightforward way to the general public,

particularly those immigrants from rural areas and ordinary people, who had no

advanced reading skills to appreciate books or periodicals which only contained pure

textual messages. Although in the early years what these popular pictorials carried

sometimes seemed to be drivel or worthless anecdotes, for example, in Pictorial from

the Stone Tablet Studio (Dianshizhai haubao) a disobedient son struck dead by a

thunderbolt and a drunk bloke riding a bull, it was these light-hearted, nonsensical

fantasies that caught the attention of normal people and provided them with materials

for daily conversations.32

Moving on to the twentieth century, pictorial magazines became a medium,

which not only appealed broadly to the general public but also targeted specifically

middle class readers who had more leisure time and disposable income. Through

these pictorials, readers learnt information of domestic and international events,

theoretical and practical knowledge of modern science, and the latest news of fashion,

urban lifestyle and consumer products. For example, Young Companion (Liangyou

huabao), one of Shanghai’s most popular and successful pictorials of the 1920s and

1930s, frequently introduced interior design and decorative arts for homes to draw the

attention of well-educated women who had an interest in cosy and stylish domestic

life.33


98

In addition to pictorial magazines, there was also popular literature to

accommodate those who were more willing to read text. Popular literature in

Shanghai, which was originally intended to appeal to middle and lower class tastes,

broadly included the so-called ‘mandarin and butterfly school’ (yuanyang hudie pai)

fictions, which specialised in sentimental affairs and physically unrequited love, and a

wide range of fictional genres, such as detective thrillers, supernatural stories, martial

heroes, knights-errant and social scandals. In these fictions, the Shanghainese not

only read stories in an imaginary world but also saw a reflection of themselves. In

other words, besides fictitious plots, readers might encounter similar scenarios that

actually happened in real life. As E. Perry Link argues, these urban popular fictions

reflected the anxiety and worry of those who dwelt in the metropolis, and of those

whose desire to keep up with the ever-changing world had long been replaced by the

desire to forget the fact that they could never keep up with it. 34 A well-known slogan

in the advertisement for a popular fiction magazine Saturday (Libailiu) reads: ‘[I]

would rather not have a concubine than not read Saturday.’ Advertising catchphrase

as it was, it indeed depicted how people were fascinated by those fictions. According

to Zhou Shoujuan, one of the editors of the magazine, eager readers would wait

outside the publishing house on Saturday mornings for new issues to be released, and

then rushed to purchase the latest copies of Saturday once the doors of the building

were opened, just like those who shouldered their way to a breakfast stall in order to

buy baked wheat cakes.35

In such a fashion, on the one hand what used to be spread through oral

communication in a closed rural community, such as legend, rumours or current

affairs, were now distributed through pictorials and fictions in Shanghai, and on the

other, what used to be employed to deliver the teachings of Confucius and classical


99

literature, i.e. the printed matter, was now a medium to distribute knowledge of

Western science and technology, as well as nonsensical thoughts and gossips.

Stage performance

A form of stage performance, ‘new drama’ (xinju), arose in the late nineteenth

century. Compared with traditional Chinese theatrical works, new drama is similar to

Western spoken drama, laying more emphasis on dialogue without performers acting

abstract gestures and movements or singing against the ear-piercing instrumental

accompaniment. Due to its straightforwardness in the aspect of communication, in

the late Qing dynasty, new drama was commonly used by the reformists to promote

their ideal of democracy and advocate establishing a Chinese republic. After the

overthrow of the Qing dynasty, the agitated political fervour and formulaic sentiment-

rousing speeches that had been conveyed in those stage plays were no longer

appreciated by the audience. As a result, transformed from a device for propagation

into a form of mass entertainment, from instilling the general public with political

beliefs into accommodating the audience’s needs for sheer pleasure, domestic news

and plots from traditional opera and popular fictions were integrated into new drama

in Shanghai.36 The audience could see in stage plays familiar images of ordinary

people, dramatic presentation of everyday trivialities, clichéd narratives of romantic

or parental love, the dark facets of social life and shocking inside stories of celebrities

and criminals. Therefore, before the film industry mushroomed and sound films

gained popularity in the 1930s, new drama had been an important form of

entertainment offering the Shanghainese onstage what could only be read in fictions

and learnt about from magazines or newspapers.


100

Nevertheless, the popularity of new drama never dampened people’s

enthusiasm for traditional operatic performances. Like people in other areas of China,

attending live performance of traditional opera and story-telling ballads was also one

of the important leisure activities for the Shanghainese. Conventionally, traditional

stage performances were carried out in tea gardens (xiyuan) and small teahouses

(chaguan), where a square stage was set in front of tables and chairs, and tea and a

range of refreshment were served to the viewers. However, Shanghai provided these

traditional performing arts with new stages for further development.

There were privately owned pleasure gardens, usually boasted with pavilions,

trees, rockeries and flowers blooming throughout the year. Unlike in a tea garden,

which allowed only one performance at a time on the stage, in a pleasure garden

people could attend several programmes delivered by various entertainers in different

corners of the garden at the same time. Following the construction of the first

Western-style theatre, the Lyceum Theatre (Lanxin xiyuan), by European residents in

the French Concession in 1874, Chinese entrepreneurs also started building the so-

called ‘stages’ (wutai) for Chinese operas in the early twentieth century. These

‘stages’, duplicating the layout of Western theatres, were fitted with tiered seats, a

raised, large stage, as well as lightning equipment and alternating backdrops. Among

these new theatres was the New Stage (Xin wutai), opened in 1908, which had 5,000

seats and a stage spacious enough for the scenery and extra large pieces of props. At

the same time as the rise of new theatres in the first two decades of the twentieth

century, a number of larger entertainment complexes appeared in Shanghai. These

multi-storey establishments provided a much wider range of amusements than

pleasure gardens, from a mixture of performances, such as traditional operas, ballads,

acrobatics, magic shows and stage dramas, to other attractions, such as cinemas,


101

department stores and stalls selling all manner of snacks and refreshments. The New

World (Xin shijie) in the International Settlement and the Great World (Da shijie) in

the French Concession were the most two famous entertainment centres of this kind in

Shanghai.

These Western-style establishments not only repackaged old stage

performance to bring a new theatrical experience to the audience but also constructed

a new arena for performers to introduce more onstage devices and gimmicks for

audio-visual effects, which were never seen on the traditional stage. In traditional

Chinese opera, a play is presented on an almost bare stage and an actor portrays a

character through specific gestures and movements, as well as delivering the sense of

time, space and imaginary objects through body language.37 However, in Shanghai,

because of the ample space available in new theatres for stage movement and the use

of a greater amount of stage properties, more magnificent stage sets, dazzling

acrobatics, bigger accompanying ensembles, fancier electric lighting device, and even

illusive tricks and live animals were all employed in traditional operatic performance.

Moreover, besides the traditional repertoire, there were newly composed plays in

Shanghai, bringing subject matter shown in new drama into traditional opera, and

therefore theatregoers could also see current events and contemporary life acted on

the operatic stage. Hence, this more vibrant, liberal and commercial-oriented form of

operatic performance was labelled as Haipei (‘Shanghai style’), as opposed to the

supposedly more conservative and traditional Jingpai (‘Beijing style’) opera.

The chaos caused by the two rebellions unexpectedly drove the Chinese back

into the areas originally designated for foreign residents, and thus allowed people of

old Cathay to experience and emulate Western civilisation in everyday life. The

economic prosperity kept drawing more to the city from its vicinity, the hinterland, as


102

well as from overseas, for a better life. From a walled Chinese county town together

with a piece of muddy wetland, Shanghai transformed into a metropolis where

traditional life coexisted with Western practices and civilisation, an immigrant city

where newcomers had to acquaint themselves with the fast-paced life and complicated

social relations, and a big stadium where new forms of entertainment were created

and old performing arts redeveloped. If two ways of life could be practised

simultaneously in this city, and if there could be comfort and pleasure in various

entertainment commodities, why could not musical elements from two traditions be

drawn together to amuse people and ease their stress and anxiety here? If novels and

amenities were only available in this city, and if commercialisation of the supply of

daily necessities offered a better quality of life, why could not a new form of musical

products be created here and distributed through the flourishing new media and

entertainment industry? As Lu Hanchao suggests, ‘if Shanghai was a place where two

cultures – Chinese and Western – met but neither prevailed, it was not because the

two were deadlocked but because both showed remarkable resilience.’38 Similarly, if

Shanghai was a place where new matters arose but the old did not perish, it was

because the old could be repackaged to join the new while the new could embrace the

old to assure prosperity on both sides. This is the place where Chinese popular music

industry started, developed and thrived.

Endnotes

1 All About Shanghai and Environs: A Standard Guide Book (Shanghai: University

Press, 1934/1935; repr. with an introduction by H. J. Lethbridge, Hong Kong: Oxford

University Press, 1983), p. 1.


103

2 Ibid., p. 2

3 Imperial Maritime Customs (eds), Treaties, Conventions, Etc., Between China and

Foreign States, vol. 1 (Shanghai: Statistical Department of the Inspectorate General of

Customs, 1908), p. 200.

4 For more details of the uprising, refer to Shanghai shehui kexueyuan lishi yanjiusuo

(eds), Shanghai xiaodaohui qiyi shiliao huibian (Collection of historical materials on

the Shanghai Small Sword Uprising) (Shanghai: Shanghai remin chubanshe, 1958;

repr. 1980).

5 See Hanchao Lu, Beyond the Neon Lights: Everyday Shanghai in the Early

Twentieth Century (Berkeley, Cali. and London: University of California Press, 1999),

p. 140.

6 For a comprehensive source of the rebellion, see Philip A. Kuhn ‘The Taiping

rebellion’ in John K. Fairbank (ed.), The Cambridge History of China, Volume 10:

Late Ch’ing, 1800-1911, Part I (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1978), pp.

264-317.

7 Zou Yiren, Jiu Shanghai renkou bianqian de yanjiu (Research on population change

in old Shanghai) (Shanghai: Shanghai remin chubanshe, 1980), pp. 3-4.

8 Ch’en, Jerome, China and the West: Society and Culture 1815-1937 (London:

Hutchinson & Co., 1979), pp 211-2. For more details of the qualifications for the

enrolment in the Chinese Ratepayers’ Association, see Shanghai zujie zhi bianzuan

weiyuanhui (eds), Shanghai zujie zhi (A chronicle of concessions in Shanghai)

(Shanghai: Shanghai shehui kexue yuan chubanshe, 2001), pp. 177, 181.

9 Harriet Sergeant, Shanghai (London: Jonathan Cape, 1991), p. 2.


104

10 All About Shanghai, p. 35-7. The census showed that in 1930 the Japanese, with a

total of 18,796, were the largest single group in the city as a whole, the British were in

a distant second place with 8,449, less than half the Japanese population, and the

Russian took third by 7,366. Interestingly, though regarded as treaty powers, the

American only ranked fourth by 3,149 and the French a far eighth by 1,406. These

figures and rankings, nonetheless, changed variously in the ensuing two decades with

the development of international political situations.

11 To give two particular instances, in 1937, before the outbreak of the Sino-Japanese

War, the whole city of Shanghai, including the foreign concessions and the Chinese

municipality, had a population of 3,851,976, among which only 63,148 were

foreigners; moving on to 1942, after Japan declared war on the Allies, the foreign

population increased to 86,389 against a total of 3,919,779. For more statistics in

other years, see Shanghai zujie zhi bianzuan weiyuanhui (eds), Shanghai zujie zhi, pp.

116-8 and Zou, Jiu Shanghai renkou bianqian, pp. 90-91.

12 Xu Guozhen, Shanghai Shenghuo (Shanghai life) (Shanghai: Shijie shuju, 1933), pp.

13-6.

13 Lu, Beyond the Neon Light, p. 43.

14 While the ‘Shanghainese’ was a label reserved for Chinese people who had settled

down in Shanghai, either foreign concessions or the Chinese city, Westerners,

excluding Russian exiles whom were not considered white, usually addressed

themselves as ‘Shanghailandgers’. For an interesting commentary on

Shanghailanders, refer to ‘The Shanghai boom’, Fortune, 11:1 (January 1935), pp. 30-

40.


105

15 Zhang Zhongli (ed.), Jindai Shanghai chengshi yanjiu (Modern Shanghai studies)

(Shanghai: Shanghai renmin chubanshe, 1991), p. 753.

16 See Shenpao, the 23rd of the 3rd month the year kuiyou (1873) and the 24th of the

11th month the year renshen (1872).

17 Wei, Betty Peh-T’I, Shanghai: Crucible of Modern China (Oxford: Oxford

University Press, 1987), p. 81-2.

18 As most alleyway houses in Shanghai did not have hot water facilities, residents

usually relied on professional hot water services in their neighbourhoods. For more

discussion on the tenacity of Chinese traditions in daily life of old Shanghai, refer to

Lu, Beyond the Neon Lights, pp. 307-15.

19 See Gao Ping, ‘Yinli de yanyong’ (Continue using the lunar calendar), Xinsheng

zhoukan, 1:1 (10 February 1934), p. 13; ‘We have Chinese New Year with us again’,

The China Weekly Review, 67:11 (10 February 1934), p. 397. The ‘mixture of yin and

yang’ is still seen in printed calendars circulated in China, Taiwan and other Chinese

communities around the world.

20 Gao, ‘Yinli de yanyong’, p. 14.

21 This would also explain why one’s appearance mattered a great deal in Shanghai.

Some people, though staying in a small room on a mezzanine (tingzijian) and living

on a shoestring, would put their Western-style trousers under their pillows every night

to maintain the creases in the trousers so that they looked at least properly dressed

when they strutted down the street.

22 Haishang kanyang shijiunian ke, ‘Shenjiang louxi’ (Bad customs in Shanghai),

Shenbao, the 11th of the 3rd month the year kueyou (1873).


106

23 The Sincere Company (Xianshi gongsi) is the first Western-style department store

in Shanghai; the Sanyou Company (Sanyou gongsi) is a local manufacturer

specialising in quality interior decorative items and bedclothes.

24 Li Boyuan, Wenming xiaoshi (A short history of civilisation) (Beijing: Tongsu

wenyi chubanshe, 1955), pp. 101-2. Originally published in serial form 1903 to 1905,

set in the early twentieth century against the background of the whole nation, this

novel provides vignettes of change in all areas of Chinese society under Western

influences. For an English version, refer to Li Boyuan, Modern Times: A Brief

History of Enlightenment, trans. Douglas Lancashire (with an introduction by Douglas

Lancashire, Hong Kong: Chinese University of Hong Kong, 1996).

25 Wen-Hsin Yeh, ‘Shanghai modernity: commerce and culture in a republican city’,

China Quarterly, 150 (1997), p. 384.

26 Yuan Jin, Yuanyang hudie pai (Mandarin duck and butterfly school) (Shanghai:

Shanghai shudian, 1994), p.36.

27 Xu, Shanghai Shenghuo, p. 32.

28 According to a 1950 census, 85% of the population in Shanghai before 1949 were

first-generation immigrants from other parts of China, many form the countryside.

Zou, Jiu Shanghai renkou bianqian de yanjiu, p. 113.

29 Yu Ling, Ye Shanghai (Shanghai night) in, Yuling juzuo xuan (A selection of Yu

Ling’s stage plays) (Beijing: Renmin wenxue chubanshe, 1979), p. 266.

30 Qian Nairong, Shanghai fangyan liyu (The Shanghai dialect and slang) (Shanghai:

Shanghai shehui kexue yuan chubanshe, 1989), p. 73.


107

31 Yeh, ‘Shanghai modernity’, p. 387. For the subject of tanci as a new advertising

medium for women’s fashion clothing, refer to Carlton Benson, ‘Consumers are also

soldiers: subversive songs from Nangjing Road during the New Life Movement’, in

Sherman Cochran (ed.), Inventing Nanjing Road: Commercial Culture in Shanghai,

1900-1945 (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell East Asia Series, 1999), pp. 91-132; for the use of

calendar-poster as tobacco advertisements, see Sherman Cochran, ‘Transnational

origins of advertising in early twentieth China’, ibid., pp. 37-58.

32 Pictorial from the Stone Tablet Studio was first issued in May 1884 as a supplement

to The Shun Pao Daily (Shenbao). For a study on how this pictorial shaped Chinese

readers’ views of politics and society, refer to Christopher A. Reed, ‘Re/collecting the

sources: Shanghai’s Dianshizhai Pictorial and its place in historical memories, 1884-

1949’, Modern Chinese Literature and Culture, 12:2 (2000), pp. 44-71.

33 For more details of how pictorials of this kind and art magazines promoted

commercial arts and consumer industries, see Carrie Waara ‘Invention, industry, art:

the commercialization of culture in Republican art magazines’, in Sherman Cochran

(ed), Inventing Nanjing Road: Commercial Culture in Shanghai, 1900-1945 (Ithaca,

N.Y.: Cornell East Asia Series, 1999), pp. 61-89.

34 The creation of ‘mandarin duck and butterfly school’ fictions can be traced to a

best-selling sentimental novel Jade Pear Spirit (Yulihun) of this type, written by Xu

Zhenya and first published in 1912. The term ‘mandarin duck and butterfly’ was

coined due to the frequent use of poems comparing lovers to pairs of mandarin ducks

and butterflies in novels of this kind. See E. Perry Link, ‘Traditional-style popular

urban fiction in the teens and twenties’, in Merle Goldman (ed.), Modern Chinese


108

Literature in the May Fourth Era (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1977),

pp. 327-30.

35 Zheng Yimei, Shubao hua jiu (Talk of old times in books and newspapers)

(Shanghai: Xuelin chubanshe, 1983), p. 164.

36 Zhang, Jindai Shanghai chengshi yanjiu, p. 1099.

37 For a succinct introduction of the development and performance of Chinese opera,

refer to Jiang Xinyu, ‘Traditional Chinese drama’, in Wu Dingbo and Patrick D.

Mauphy (eds), Handbook of Chinese Popular Culture (London: Greenwood Press,

1994), pp. 215-35; for a discussion on the use of terms ‘opera’, ‘drama’ or so on in

Chinese stage performance, see Jonathan Stock, Huju: Traditional Opera in Modern

Shanghai (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003), pp. 4-7.

38 Lu, Beyond the Neon Lights, p. 297.

109

Chapter Four

The Platform

This chapter presents details of the participants and the activities in which they

were involved the Shanghai popular music industry, the platform where music

products were created and delivered to the audience. Following the physical flow of

musical products as suggested in the hypothetical flowchart of the industry proposed

in Chapter Two, the reconstructed platform is divided into three sections: the making,

selling and consuming processes.

I. The producing process

The producing process involves record companies, songwriters,

instrumentalists and singers. Although there were some functioning departments,

similar to today’s A&R, marketing and sales, in major record companies such as EMI

and RCA-Victor, few documents were left to illustrate how different departments

cooperated with each other. However, it is clear that after Chinese composers were

employed by major record companies as full-time staff, they started taking charge of

the production, deciding what to record and coordinating singers and session

musicians. This section reveals the operation of record companies and backgrounds

and activities of all the involved artists – songwriters, instrumentalists and singers.

Chapter Four The Platform

110

1. Record companies

After a series of mergers and acquisitions between those record companies

which owned subsidiaries in China, the Electric and Musical Industries (China) and

the RCA-Victor Company of China became two major foreign record companies

equipped with recording studios and manufacturing facilities operating in Shanghai.

The forerunner of EMI (China) is Pathé Phono Cinema Chine which was founded by

a Frenchman, E. Labansat, in Shanghai in 1908 and was reorganised to Pathé Orient

in 1921 when the company expanded and built a new recording studio. In 1928 the

British-based Columbia Gramophone Company purchased Pathé Frères, Pathé

Orient’s parent company in France, and took over Pathé Orient’s properties in

Shanghai in 1930. Thus, the French Pathé Orient became the British Pathé Orient.

Three years after the Columbia Gramophone Company merged with the Gramophone

Company to form the Electronic and Musical Industries, Ltd. in Britain in 1931, the

Electric & Musical Industries (China) was formally established in Shanghai on 25th

June 1934, with an authorised share capital of 1,000,000 Mexican dollars registered as

manufacturers and distributors of gramophone records, gramophones, cinema

equipment and radios.1 Interestingly, although reorganised and given a new name, the

company was still called Pathé Record Company (Baidai changpian gongsi) by

Chinese people. EMI ceased operation in April 1949, a month before Shanghai was

‘liberated’ by the Chinese Communist.

The Victor Talking Machine Company in Shanghai was originally controlled

by Nippon Victor, a Japanese subsidiary of Victor Talking Machine. In 1928, the

giant Radio Corporation of America acquired Victor Talking Machine Company and

RCA-Victor Company formed. In China, the title ‘Victor Talking Machine

Company’ with a supplementary line of lengthy words ‘Radio America-Victor


111

Talking Machine Corporation’ (Meiguo wuxiandian shengli changji hezu gongsi) was

used until July 1930 when the company officially turned its name to ‘RCA-Victor

Company of China’.2 RCA-Victor Coompany of China was registered as an agent

throughout China for the American RCA-Victor group, which also manufactured

radios and some other domestic appliances, with an authorised share capital

amounting to 500,000 US dollars.3 As with EMI, RCA-Victor was habitually called

Victor Record Company (Shengli changpian gongsi) by consumers. As most

equipment was badly damaged during the Sino-Japanese War, RCA-Victor shut down

its factory in 1945 and has never resumed production ever since.

Besides the two majors, there were another two foreign companies, Beka

China (known to Chinese consumers as Beikai) and Odeon China (known as

Gaoting), which had once been involved in the production of Chinese popular music.

In Germany, Beka and Odeon had been acquired as early as 1910 and 1911

respectively by Lindström, which was in turn sold to the Columbia Gramophone

Company (UK) in 1926 and became part of the EMI concern. However, Beka China

and Odeon China were still operated under their own trademarks as independent

companies through their agents in Shanghai. Unlike EMI and RCA-Victor, Beka and

Odeon did not build their own factories in Shanghai, but instead made recordings and

stamped their records on a smaller scale with EMI’s facilities. The two companies

appeared to be out of business in the 1940s, after the Japanese took control of the

whole of Shanghai following the Pacific War, because no information on them has

since been found in either yellow pages or advertisements in other print media.

Although it was foreign companies that started and dominated the Chinese

record industry, Chinese people had their indigenous record companies. The Great

China Record Company (Dazhonghu changpian), which was established by Dr Sun


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Yat-Sen with Japanese capital in 1916 but had turned into a locally owned company

by 1927, was the only Chinese company that owned facilities to make recordings and

manufacture records. However, Great China ran its business with limited facilities on

a much smaller scale compared to the other two major foreign companies and could

never compete with them. There were also a number of local record companies,

dubbed ‘pocketbook companies’, operating in Shanghai. The reason for being so

called is that the most valuable asset of a ‘pocketbook company’ was usually a

‘pocketbook’ which held details of recording contracts with artists, manufacturing

contracts with the major companies and a small amount of petty cash. These local

companies specialised mainly in traditional repertoire, such as folk songs, regional

operas and story-telling ballads, not in popular songs. Renting studio and

manufacturing time from those companies equipped with production facilities, they

carried out all production activities in Shanghai and then distributed records to the

different regions in China they specifically catered for.4

Although there were many record companies in Shanghai, by the end of 1930s

EMI controlled most of the popular music market in China and most songwriters and

singers signed exclusively to that company during the most crucial stage of their

careers. EMI’s activities and its interactions with other institutions or individuals can

be viewed as the epitome of the popular music industry in China in the first half of the

twentieth century. Taking into consideration EMI’s dominant position and the

imbalance in the types of information available, particular attention will of necessity

be paid to EMI and RCA-Victor in the following historical account of record

companies’ activities.


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Production organising

At the early stage of the development of recording industry in China, both

major and local pocketbook companies were dedicated to making recordings of

traditional operas. As knowledge of Chinese music was not widespread in the West,

directors of foreign record companies had to count on local intermediaries to arrange

the selection of artists and music to be recorded. These middlemen, presumably, had

to look for performers who were well-known to most people or vocalists who could

perform what was popular at the time. Since Li Jinhui captivated audiences with his

children’s musical dramas and love songs, record companies had been keen to

approach him about recording his compositions. It was because of Li’s reputation and

the enormous financial benefit his works could bring in that record companies

contacted him through local middlemen. By the mid-1930s, some Chinese were

formally employed to be in charge of music production within the recording

organisation. A post of Musical Director was created in Pathé Orient in 1932 whereas

in RCA-Victor positions of A&R were taken by Chinese employees by 1935. It was

not until then that Chinese personnel in foreign record companies began to lead the

production. Although during the time of the French Pathé Orient a Chinese

collaborator, Zhang Changfu, had been engaged by Labansat to arrange recording

contracts with local artists since the business started in Shanghai, he was never

regarded as a member of the production team in the company, but rather only a

comprador.5

Ren Guang, a musician who studied composition in France, was invited by a

foreign manager to work in Pathé Orient upon his return to Shanghai in 1932. The

company engaged him as Musical Director and concurrently as Chinese Manager

(huaren jingli), as opposed to foreign managers, in the hope that he would help to


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select appropriate works for new records, from the repertoire of Chinese regional

operas and Cantonese music, in order to increase its sale volume. He may have been

the first Chinese to be offered an official position in charge of record production in a

foreign record company. Thereafter, Pathé Orient had its own ‘expert’ on Chinese

music and thus matters such as scouting for artists and negotiating contracts with local

musicians were processed within a department in the company, rather than dealt with

by agents who might have no fixed connexion to the company. Ren left EMI and

moved to Paris again in 1937 because the Japanese Consulate in Shanghai found out

that he was the one who, under the pseudonym Qianfa, composed the anti-Japanese

song ‘Fighting the Way Back Home’ (Da hui laojia qu) which had been a great

morale booster for Chinese people following the outbreak of Sino-Japanese War.6

The vacancy was soon filled by another Chinese, Fu Xiangxun, with a

different title, Dramatic Director. Fu worked as Dramatic Director there for several

years, probably including the period 1942 to 1945 when the company was under

Japanese control. There is little information left about Fu’s personal life, but during

his term in EMI more Chinese composers certainly joined the company. Before 1937,

songwriters usually worked freelance though some of them might have been

employed by film companies to write film songs and supervise the audio production.7

These composers received royalties from record companies only when their

compositions were made into records and released. However, after Fu joined the

company, from the late 1930s EMI began to engage composers as full-time staff and

provided offices where everyone had his own piano and worked all day.8 It was not

clear when Fu left EMI, but Li Jinguang, a full-time employed songwriter, was

promoted to take up the position of Musical Director no later than 1945. Despite the

fact that British owners had regained control of the company from Japanese directors


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after the end of the war in 1945, British managers only paid attention to sales figures

and it was Li and other songwriters who made all decisions regarding music

production.

J. P. O. Yang and M. T. Poo are the earliest A&R personnel of RCA-Victor in

Shanghai who can be identified in the extant documents. Poo worked in the company

with the title A&R until 1942 when the Japanese took it over and appointed a

compatriot, Y. Kishi, to head the A&R department. Nevertheless, Poo continued to

be employed as Inspector and Chinese Manager, and then transferred to be the

manager of the record department after the Americans reclaimed the operation

following the end of the war in 1945. Except for these names and official job titles,

there is unfortunately no information left about the duties and responsibilities of the

A&R personnel in RCA-Victor, nor were their biographical details recorded.

Contracts & royalties

Artists signed recording contracts with EMI, which stated the numbers of

recordings to be made in a specified period of time. Whether a singer was given only

a fixed amount of revenue after a recording session or would receive royalties in the

future depended either on her reputation in the field or the sales of her previous work.

The company would usually sign a new contract with a new artist when the sales

reached a certain level. As Wu Yingyin remembered,

In the office, there were column charts on the wall showing sales of albums.

When the column representing my album went surprisingly beyond Zhou

Xuan’s and Yao Li’s, which no one had ever did, they asked me immediately

signed a new contract.9


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In the 1930s, while singers, according to their rank in the company, would receive

3.5%, 2.5% or 1.5% of the wholesale price of records as royalties, composers were

paid at a fixed rate of 2.5% and lyricists at 1.5% of the price. The rate applicable to

singers rose to between 4% and 6% in the 1940s. Singers could choose to receive

either an advance, against future sales of 2,000 records, after recording sessions and

collected more when the sales figures exceeded 2,000, or receive only a one-off

payment based on sales of 2,000 records. When the former option was chosen,

royalties were generally paid to artists on a monthly basis.10 The mechanism dealing

with copyright of songs, lyrics and recordings has continued to operate surprisingly

well, because, as mentioned in the pilot study, even EMI (Hong Kong) still today pays

royalties to the living elderly singers of the Shanghai era, or their descendants, when

old recordings are reissued.

Terms and conditions of a contract with EMI might vary from artist to artist,

but once it was signed, it was strictly forbidden to make recordings for other record

companies. While no case has been found, so far, in any available documents and

archives where a singer violated a contract, there was a case in which a breach of an

agreement led to a composer’s resignation. In April 1934, Nie Er, a young leftist

composer and communist, approached Pathé Orient to make recording of his songs.

Recommended by Ren Guang, he was able to sing five songs, which he had just

composed, to Ren’s accompaniment on a piano in front of foreign directing managers.

The foreign managers approved Nie’s proposal to release these songs, and, moreover,

they engaged him to work with Ren in the company. Thus, Ren became the first

Assistant Musical Director, and the only one, in EMI’s history in China. Unwittingly,

at the request of Cai Chusheng, the director of the famous film Fisherman’s Song

(Yuguangqu), Nie Er composed two songs for a new film, Flying Flower Village


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(Feihuacun). As the film company, Yi Hwa Motion Picture, insisted that the

recordings had to be made for RCA-Victor, the two songs were released under the

RAC-Victor label. This action was a violation of the agreement between Nie and

EMI, which stated that he must not compose for other record companies, and caused

serious offence to the directing board.11 In November the same year, Nie resigned

from EMI, partly because of this incident.

Manufacturing

Only three major companies were equipped with recording and manufacturing

facilities. In the 1930s, EMI owned twenty-four record-pressing machines in the

factory in Shanghai, RCA-Victor eighteen and Great China a mere eight. According

to Jones’ estimation, by 1932 domestic production had reached 5.4 million records per

annum, of which EMI accounted for a half of them, i.e. 2.7 million, RCA-Victor 1.8

million, and Great China only 900,000.12 A negative metal-matrix was usually

produced immediately after a performance was recorded on a wax plate, so that the

musical director could listen to it and determined if the quality of recording and

performance was up to standard. A qualified recording was then filed away and

would not be touched until it was scheduled to be released.13

Record companies released new records in batches on a regular basis. A list

of the newly released records of a company published in a newspaper or magazine

would always carry a title indicating which batch it was. EMI released new records

quarterly in 1941; the number of releases per year increased after 1945 and reached its

peak in 1947 with twelve batches a year.


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Advertising & publicity

Before 1937, a great number of advertisements were placed in the print media,

including leading dailies, local tabloids, and magazines dedicated to broadcasts, films

or and other entertainment. The advertisements included information of newly

released recordings together with eye-catching lines of words. It was not uncommon

to see words drawing attention to the company’s ability to sign up artists, such as

‘Pathé has recruited all film stars to make recordings’ and ‘All nationwide famous

singers make recordings in Pathé’. There were also advertisements which showed

portraits of various artists asserting ‘All the recordings are made by brilliant singers’,

as well as those for individual artist where their photos and lists of latest albums were

presented.14 Perhaps due to social and political instability, during the eight-year Sino-

Japanese War and after 1945, the number of advertisements in the print media

decreased sharply.

Although no specific statistics can be shown here, it is a fact that virtually no

advertisements were placed in the leading The Shun Pao Daily (Shenpao), and full- or

half-page advertisements comparable to the size of those appearing prior to 1937

could no longer be seen in magazines. In July 1937, EMI published Pathé

Semimonthly (Baidai banyuekan) as its official magazine and an alternative way of

advertising, with a view to communicating publication information and production

notes and introducing new artists to the public. However, since only the first issue of

Pathé Monthly has been located so far and, surprisingly, no elderly fan or collector

remembers this magazine, it remains to be seen how many issues were released and

whether the magazine was distributed exclusively to retailers. Besides print

advertising, EMI also installed neon lights or signboards for major record shops and

placed advertisements on main streets in the city centre.15 The company was


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concerned about how its products were arranged and exhibited in the front windows

of records shops. In the first issue of Pathé Monthly, an article, with photos of

outstanding window-dressing designs taken from some of its agents in Shanghai,

emphasised the importance and benefits of proper window displays and required all

retailers to arrange the merchandise in ways similar to those shown in the photos.16

Promotional events

With a view to increasing sales volumes, major record companies usually held

special promotional events. These events included prize-giving and live

performances. A ‘favourite star contest’ was a good method of drawing people’s

attention to new recordings from those stars who played leading roles and sang songs

in films. A case in point is the event held by Pathé Orient in 1934.17 A ballot paper

was given out when a record was purchased and the more records one bought the

more ballots one got. Consumers wrote down and ranked the names of their favourite

stars and sent the ballots back to Pathé. Three lucky participants who gave the

ranking that was closest to the overall result were awarded a cash prize of one

hundred dollars, a portable Pathé gramophone and a set of six records respectively.

Undoubtedly record companies assumed that people would not only buy records for

themselves but also try to persuade their friends to buy some, in order to get more

ballot papers. Therefore the star they supported would be voted the most popular and,

at the same time they would have more chances to win a prize.

Record companies also took opportunities to promote their products at various

events held by other organisers. In an event named ‘the election of the queen and the

top ten female Chinese movie stars of 1934’ in the famous Paramount Dancehall


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(Bailemen wuting), EMI organised another competition – voice recognising. 18

Customers were invited to listen carefully to seven records played in public and

decided who the singers were. They were then to write down the names on a voucher

with seven blanks which could be found inside the record sleeve of every record

purchased. Those who gave correct answers would be eligible to enter a prize draw

and might be awarded a Columbia five-tube radio, a Pathé gramophone machine or a

set of twelve records. As EMI signed contracts with many film stars to make

recordings of screen songs, playing records on this occasion was meant not only to be

adding entertainment to the event but also to show the company’s capacity for

recruiting singers to make recordings – ‘all great film stars are included on its roster’.

In addition to giving away valuable prizes, live performances featuring stars

also helped to bring consumers’ attention to the latest recordings. In the spring of

1941, in order to promote its newly released records, EMI organised a premiere

concert in a dancehall during its ‘tea dance’ and invited singers, all of whom were

also film stars, to deliver live performances of their new songs.19 As some members

from Shanghai Municipal Orchestra had long been engaged as session musicians, they

were undoubtedly employed for this event. Interestingly, every song was played

twice in this premiere. Guests were asked to remain seated the first time and listen to

the singing, but they were free to dance with their partners when the song was

repeated by the music band only. Normally, there was no additional admission fee; a

customer usually purchased several dance tickets and gave away one of them each

time he danced with a taxi girl. However, on this occasion EMI charged extra fees for

fear that too many guests and fans would flock into the venue, not only for dancing

but also to see their favourite stars.


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Licensing

Radio stations had long been playing records without paying licensing fees to

record companies because they were never required to pay. EMI regularly sent free

samples to radio stations of its own accord which they asked them to play to help

promote new releases. However, in June 1935 H. L. Wilson, one of the directors of

EMI (China), sent a letter to the radio stations in Shanghai and asked them to pay

licensing fees for playing records, claiming that it was the norm in Europe and

America. The letter required all the stations who played records released by EMI to

pay 100 US dollars every month from the 1st of July the same year on and that

The records must be those which are specifically released for broadcasting;

The records must be purchased at full retail price;

The airtime of record playing must be limited within three hours a day;

Any record cannot be played more than once a day in the first week in which

it is released and once a week from the second on;

The producer, series number and title of the record should be announced

before and after it is played;

The recording to be played must be intact or the record company which

releases it may recall it if the sound quality is not good for broadcasting.20

Other foreign record companies such as RCA-Victor, Beka and Odeon soon also put

forward the same requirements. To cope with the request, the Broadcasting Industry

Association called an emergency meeting and then sent a reply.

On the one hand, they claimed the request unreasonable because EMI had

been aware of the situation for a long time and had once informed them by official

letters that special offers were available for broadcasting. Moreover, since there was


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no regulation regarding ‘gramophone records’ in the Chinese Law of Publication,

even though it had been the norm in Europe and America to pay a licensing fee to

record companies, these radio stations would not do so. They then appealed to the

Ministry of the Interior and the Judicial Yuan for adjudication concerning the

payment of licensing fees. On the other hand, the radio stations then asked EMI

either to buy back all its records by the 8th of July 1935 because they would all

become waste material as it was forbidden to play records on the air without paying

the fees, or otherwise they would resume airplay despite the request. EMI did not

respond to this warning and the radio stations decided to play records again.21

About a month later, the Ministry of the Interior announced that regulations

regarding copyright in the Law of Publication did not apply to gramophone records

because the item ‘publication’ as used in the Law did not include gramophone

records. In December, a committee in the Judicial Yuan adjudicated on the dispute

and gave its verdict. As gramophone records were neither publications nor works

with copyright, the so-called exclusive right of public performance did not exist and

the owner of a record might play it freely. Disputes between radio stations and record

companies were thus settled, and these foreign companies remained silent on the

licensing issue thereafter.22 Record companies never received any fees from radio

stations.

2. Composers and lyricists

Shanghai popular song originated from Li Jinhui’s song-and-dance troupe, but

apart from Li himself and some members in his troupe, it was songwriters from

different backgrounds who joined the industry one after another throughout the whole


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Shanghai era and gave impetus to the continuous creation of Shanghai popular song.

They wrote songs for record companies or accepted commissions for films. While

some composers such as Chen Gexin, Li Jingguang, Yao Min and Li Houxiang also

wrote lyrics for their own or other composers’ songs, others such as Fan Yanqiao, Li

Juanqing and Chen Dieyi only dedicated themselves to writing lyrics.

With their musical talent, some composers learnt composition by themselves.

Li Jinguang, Yan Zhexi and Yan Hua, members from Li’s song-and-dance troupe, not

only started composing in the troupe but also continued their own songwriting careers

after the troupe disbanded in 1935. After Li Jinguang was employed by EMI as a

full-time composer in the late 1930s, he also invited Yan Zhexi to join the company.

Yan Hua worked as a freelance songwriter with connexions to both EMI and RCA-

Victor. Yao Min, a self-taught songwriter who started his career composing, singing

and playing instruments for the Great Unity Club on radio, also joined EMI in the late

1930s. Li Houxiang never received formal training in music either, but was employed

by EMI and commissioned to compose for many film companies. Although receiving

no formal music education, some of these composers continued expanding their

musical knowledge along their career paths by studying with private tutors or

colleagues in record companies. For example, Li Ginguang studied instrumentation

with the pianist Singer, and Yao Min and Li Houxiang with Chen Gexin. Besides

those self-taught composers, there are some who received proper music education in

academic institutions or from private tutors. Yang Gongshang and Liang Yueyin

studied composition in Japan, He Lüting and Liu Xuean studied in the Shanghai

Conservatory of Music, Ren Guang studied composition and piano tuning in France,

and Chen Gexin took lessons on various of compositional techniques from a private

tutor.


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Lyricists of Shanghai popular song also came from different professional and

social backgrounds. However, in comparison to composers, lyricists were seldom

mentioned on newspapers and magazines in the Shanghai era and thus few of their

biographical detials were left. It is known that only Chen Dieyi and Li Juanqing

wrote lyrics for a living and continued their careers with EMI after it moved to Hong

Kong. While Chen Dieyi was actually a journalist before he turned his passion for

writing popular song lyrics into a full-time job, it is not clear how Li Juanqing joined

the popular music industry.23 Other lyricists wrote occasionally on commission or

because of their involvement in film production. For example, Fan Yanqiao was a

novelist and scriptwriter and Hu Xinling and Wu Cun were both film directors and

often wrote lyrics for songs in their films.

It is not clear how composers collaborated with lyricists on the creation of

songs. However, when a song was adapted from a folk tune or foreign hit, the

composer would engage a lyricist to prepare new lyrics for it. For example, He

Lüting asked Tian Han to write new words for ‘The Wandering Songstress’ (Tianya

genü) and ‘The Song of Four Seasons’ (Siji ge). As for a film song, lyrics based on

the plot were usually prepared by the film director or commissioned lyricist, and then

set to music by a composer. For example, Chen Dieyi recalled that once Chen Gexin

came to him and asked if he could remove one Chinese character from the lyrics of

‘Paired Phoenix’ (Fenghuang yufei) so that the words would fit better into the

melody.24 In this case, the lyrics were obviously written before the music. However,

tunes might also be created before lyrics. Yao Li remembered that when a composer

finished a tune, he would tell a lyricist the sentiment or feeling that it was meant to

deliver, such as sadness, happiness, tenderness or love, and the lyricist would then

compose set words to it.25


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Unlike lyricists who merely worked on words, perhaps because some

composers were employed full-time by record companies and in addition to create

melodies they had to assume more responsibilities. They also arranged instrumental

accompaniments for songs, conducted in the studio and chose singers to make

recordings for specific works. For example, sometimes Li Jinguang and Chen Gexin

would prepare scores for session musicians and conduct the band and singer in

recording sessions. When a song was finished, the composer usually had in mind an

ideal singer to perform the piece and would just choose that specific singer for the

recording. As pointed out by Zhang Fan and Jin Yi, singers always had trust in the

composer and would simply follow his instruction, rather than arguing why a

particular song was not assigned for them.26

3. Instrumentalists

Filipino bandsmen had already cultivated an appreciation of jazz and acquired

relevant performing techniques in their homeland due to the influence of American

colonists. They came to Shanghai of their own accord to cater for the city’s nightlife

with their musical expertise. Unlike their Philippine counterparts, White Russian

classical musicians, fleeing the October Revolution, came to this metropolis

unwillingly. Some of these musicians were fortunate to continue their musical career

by teaching in the Shanghai Conservatory of Music or providing private music

lessons, some managed to join the Shanghai Municipal Symphony Orchestra, and

others had no alternative but to play in cabarets. Those who had to play dance music

and American jazz probably developed the technical skills after they switched from

the concert hall to the dancehall. A Russian instrumentalist, Tino, amazed at the

Shanghainese people’s exceptional adoration for dance music, said to a tabloid in an


126

interview that he would never understand why the Chinese were so much ‘enchanted

by jazz, a weird product of Western music, to such an unusual high degree’. He was

personally much more fascinated by classical music but played jazz at the dancehall

only to earn a living.27 Although it could not be denied that there were more

admirable Philippine musical bands performing in Shanghai, it was White Russian

musicians from the Municipal Symphony Orchestra who were more often engaged by

record companies to play in recording sessions because they were able to play both

classical music and jazz to a high standard. No wonder another Russian

instrumentalist, Mick Korin, maintained that even though most the Shanghainese

regarded Filipino jazzmen as more competent, those who had a real taste of music

would know who were better.28 Obviously, from his personal view, White Russians

should have been ranked higher than the Filipinos.

It is generally believed that Chinese instrumentalists were far less proficient in

playing jazz and were thus never appointed to accompany singers in the studio, yet it

is still not clear to what degree they were involved in recording sessions. Zhu

Zhonghua, a former employee of EMI working in the recording studio from 1942 to

1945, remembers that there were Chinese playing Western instruments. Zheng Deren,

a bassist who used to play in dancehalls in the 1940s, also indicates that EMI once

required members of its Chinese music ensemble to learn to play Western

instruments. To give an example, Huang Yijun, who used to play huqin, went to the

Shanghai Conservatory of Music to learn the trumpet, viola and piano and Qin

Pengzhang, who used to play pipa, learnt the clarinet.29 Zhu and Zheng’s statements

suggest that Chinese musicians might occasionally be hired to play Western

instruments in the studio.


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Although music scores were prepared before a recording session so that the

instrumentalists could simply follow the arrangements, sometimes they would arrange

their own instrumental parts as well. According to Zhang Fan and Wu Yingyin,

foreign instrumentalists were competent to play without pre-arranged music in the

studio. They usually first made themselves familiar with the tune, and then had a

quick chat before the recording session to allocate parts and reach agreement on

issues, such as who would play the introduction of the song and who would give a

solo fill-in musical phrase or an improvisation on the tune. Those instrumentalists

were so experienced and skilful that they could start recording a song immediately

after only a few rehearsals with the singer. In addition to accompanying in such an

extemporaneous way, some of them probably were also involved beforehand in the

work of instrumentation and arrangement.30 Since White Russian classical musicians

and Filipino jazzmen were capable of arranging instrumental accompaniments on the

spur of the moment, it is reasonable to assume that some of these foreign

instrumentalists also participated in arrangements for recordings. However, few

details about their actual involvement were documented. According to Li Jinguang,

Aaron Avshalomov, a classical musician who composed much orchestral, opera and

ballet music featuring Chinese themes, was once engaged by EMI to prepare music

arrangements and supervise recording sessions. Aleksandr Slutskii, a professor of the

Shanghai Conservatory of Music, took on the job after Avshalomov resigned in 1936.

EMI also once employed the pianist Singer as a conductor in the recording studio.31

While record companies would sign up singers and employed songwriters, no

record company actually maintained an in-house jazz band or Western orchestra for

its recording sessions. EMI maintained a close relationship with members of the

Shanghai Municipal Symphony Orchestra as well as with some other Filipino


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instrumentalists active in cabarets, and engaged them to play in recording sessions.

As for RCA-Victor, in order to save the cost of hiring foreign bands, the company

once organised a Victor Wind Band composed of Chinese students who had just

graduated from senior high school. However, due to its poor performance in

recording sessions, this wind band was later relegated to play at a dancehall and no

longer played in the studio.32 As for Chinese music bands, Nie Er once set up a Pathé

Chinese Ensemble, also known as Sensen Chinese Music Band (Sunsun guoyuedui),

in EMI for the purpose of recording Chinese instrumental works as well as

accompanying popular songs arranged in the traditional style. Ren Guang continued

to lead the ensemble after Nie resigned from EMI, but the ensemble disbanded in

1937 when Ren left the company. After that, as the famous lyricist Chen Dieyi

remembers, no other in-house traditional Chinese musical band was organised, and

anyone who played huqin might be hired to form a pickup band. Even the prolific

songwriter Yao Min once played huqin for a recording session.33

4. Singers

Shanghai pop singers entered the industry from various musical backgrounds.

As with songwriters, some singers received training and started their singing careers

in Li Jinhui’s song-and-dance troupe. Even before Li’s troupe dissolved, some of

them, for example, Li Lili, Wang Renmei, Bai Hong and Zhou Xuan, had already

performed on radio or acted on the screen from the early 1930s onwards. Gong

Qiuxia, previously a member of the Peach Blossom song-and-dance troupe (Meihua

gewutuan), became a record singer and film actress after she left the troupe. Yao Li

entered on her singing career as a radio singer and began making recordings on Yan

Hua and Zhou Xuan’s recommendation. Wu Yingyin was scouted by Li Jinguang


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after she accepted the offer to perform regularly at Ciro's Nightclub & Ballroom

(Xianlesi). Jin Yin was discovered by Chen Gexin at the age of twelve when she sang

along outside a glass studio in a department store, and then formally engaged to make

records for EMI when she was sixteen. Bai Guang once studied with Miura Tamaki

in Tokyo in the early 1940s. Although she was originally a soprano, she developed a

lower and thicker voice and became an alto during her singing career.34 Li Xianglan,

a Japanese, who learnt singing with a Russian coloratura soprano, Podolev, began her

career as an actress in Manchuria and then came Shanghai to join the pop industry.

Some singers, such as Li Lihua, Chen Yumei and Hu Die, were indeed actresses, but

since they were required to sing in films and make recordings for record companies,

and so were equally adored by the audience, they were also participants in the

Shanghai pop industry.

Strictly speaking, the audience differentiated between singing stars (gexing),

such as Yao Lli and Wu Yingying, who only made records and gave live

performances, and film stars (yingxin), such as Hu Die and Li Lihua, who were

professional actresses. However, as some were both great singers and actresses, such

as Zhou Xuan, Bai Guang and Li Xianglan, the line between gexing and mingxing

became blurred, and they were just perceived as ‘stars’ (mingxing, literally ‘bright

stars’).

Although singers contracted to a record company usually followed the

instruction given by composers to make recordings of whatever songs were assigned

to them, there was no guidance on singing, nor was there any training provided to

enhance musicality and technical proficiency. They had to rely on their own talent

and experience.35 Those singers who only received basic training in song-and-dance

troupes, as well as those who were self-taught and never attended any singing course,


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usually took private lessons to advance their singing skills after they became well

known. For example, after signing for EMI, Wu Yingyin and Jin Yin started learning

vocal techniques with Chinese tutors from the Shanghai Conservatory of Music. Both

Ouyang Feiying and Qu Yunyun studied European classical music and art songs with

an American singer, Mrs Ford, and a Russian soprano, Mrs Levi. Even most

celebrated Zhou Xuan also engaged a Russian vocalist to teach her proper Western

singing skills nine years after the release of her debut record.

Record companies in the 1930s and 1940s did not launch promotions for

individual record singers, nor were there any known talent agencies that organised

publicity for artists. Therefore, in addition to improving singing skills to produce

more outstanding works, it was essential for singers to make the most of every

occasion where they met the audience. While those who sang on the screen might

make frequent public appearances in promotional events organised by film

companies, record singers had less opportunities to contact their fans. Yan Fei

remembered that some devoted fans would come to the radio station when she

performed live on radio, and watch through the glass partition of the studio while

listening to the programme delivered from the speakers. She would then be glad to

meet and talk to them afterwards. Zhang Fan remarked that she never had any

schedule for meeting fans like pop idols do today, and she did not have much contact

with the audience except when attending ribbon-cutting ceremonies for various

venues or performing on special occasions, such as festivities, charity concerts or

other one-off guest performances. She was always in a good mood to see supportive

fans. Zhang maintained that film stars and record singers were not keen on

performing regularly at dancehalls or other entertainment venues. Nevertheless, Yao

Li and Wu Yingying continued to perform at dancehalls regularly even after signed


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up by EMI. Although film companies, record companies and magazine publishers

would give away autographed photos on request, singers who did not appear regularly

at specific venues often replied to fan letters personally and gave autographs when

approached by their fans in streets. For instance, once when strolling down a street,

Zhou Xuan and Bai Hong were suddenly surrounded by a crowd of fervent fans.

They then both spent plenty of time signing autographs for the crowd. Bai Guang

also sent autographed photos as often as possible to her fans when requested, although

she complained that it did cost a lot to prepare those photos.36

II. The selling process

The selling process basically covers all the major channels through which

music moved on to the consuming process. While some institutions, such as film

companies, maintained closer relations with record companies, others such as

publishers or dancehalls primarily distributed music in their own right. Whereas

retailers sold physical records, radio stations delivered sounds over the airwaves. In

whatever form the musical products were distributed, it was through various

participants that Shanghai popular songs reached the audience. This section explores

the activities of publishers, retailers, film companies, radio stations and dancehalls,

and regulatory institutions which might influence the distribution of musical products.

1. Agents and promoters

As shown in the hypothetical flowchart of Shanghai popular music industry,

there should have been agents who facilitated distribution of records and cooperation

between record and film companies, as well as promoters who organised live


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performances in radio stations and many other entertainment establishments.

However, neither existing documents nor information gathered from fieldwork

interviews reveal those individuals who were responsible for this work. It remains to

be discovered who they were and how they played the role.

2. Publishers

From the outset most popular songs reached the audience through sound films,

gramophone records or broadcasts in the 1930s and 1940s. A songbook compiler

would decide whether or not to publish them later according to their popularity among

the audience. Although some film companies released sheet music of film songs in

newspapers or magazines before the screening of films, it was just part of their

advertising and promotion activities. Only few of the Shanghai popular songwriters

in the 1930s had written songs at the request of publishers or released their works in

the form of sheet music or songbooks. Li Jinhui and Xu Ruhui are the only two

prolific pop composers in the Shanghai era who had once used printed music scores as

a primary approach to present their compositions to the public without recording them

before.37

Apart from his musical dramas for children published by the China Book

Bureau (Zhonghua shuju), Li Jinhui had written popular songs for publishers twice

during his musical career. The first was at the beginning of 1929 when he found

himself stranded in Singapore, as described in the introductory chapter. The second

time was in the autumn of 1935 when the Bright Moon Song-and-Dance Operatic

Society (Mingyue gewujushe), which he reorganised in 1932, fell into desperate

financial straits. In order to cover the basic cost of living for members in the society,


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Li approached the Uni-Sound Bookshop (Tongsheng shudian) to publish some ‘new

songs’, which were in fact compositional exercises written by some of the members

and several pieces of Li’s earlier works. As he remembered, anyone could imagine

how ridiculous these publications were, because the number ‘80’, which was in fact

the score he marked on a sheet of a member’s compositional exercise, was

surprisingly mistaken for music notation and printed in a songbook.38 When the

proceeds from the publication of one songbook had been spent, he collected more

‘new songs’ and compiled another. In this way, twenty volumes were published in

succession, each of which contained between twenty and thirty-five songs.

Unlike Li Jinhui who submitted his pop works to eke a living, Xu Ruhui

published his songs with great ambition at his own cost. Xu founded the Midnight

Music Society (Ziye yuehui) in 1929 with the intention of promoting popular songs to

a wider audience in society. During the development stage of the society, he wrote

twelve songs and commissioned the North New Bookshop (Beixin shudian) in

Shanghai to publish a songbook. This collection of songs won great popularity and

sold very well, so he began to compose more and wrote one song per week,

publishing the sheet music in a title Midnight Weekly Song (Ziye zhouge).39

With the exception of those songbooks and sheets published by or for Li

Jinhui and Xu Ruhui, there appeared to be no further close cooperation between pop

songwriters and publishing houses. Composers tended to establish solid relationship

with film and record companies through which their works could reach the audience,

in the form of real sound rather than words and music on sheets. Publishers did not

deal with individual composers, but rather compiled songbooks from a variety of

films or recordings. They functioned more as conveyors of pop songs than as

purveyors in the industry. Most pop songbooks published in this period became


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supplementary information which provided lyrics and tunes of latest songs for

listeners who had no access to original copies of sheet music which were found in

record sleeves, and for members of singing clubs who delivered live performances on

radio. An editor once indicated in the preface of a songbook that composers’ works

were no longer submitted straight for publication and therefore ‘anyone who was fond

of singing felt that there were no songs to sing’.40 Aware of this situation, he

collected some Chinese and foreign popular songs and published them so that those

who enjoyed singing could obtain the material.

Unlike music specialists in the American Tin Pan Alley on the eastern shore of

the Pacific, those who published popular songbooks in 1930s and 1940s Shanghai

were normal publishing houses who operated their own bookshops and printing plants

and whose main business was non-music publishing. Although it is difficult to track

down how these publishers came to set up this line of musical products in addition to

ordinary publications, it is believed that composers must have been on good terms

with some executives in bookshops. Li Jinhui could not have had his works published

when he was in financial difficulties, had it not been for his former affiliation with

publishers and people in the publishing circle whom him worked with when engaged

to edit Mandarin Chinese textbooks for primary school pupils in Shanghai. On the

other hand, publishers must have seen the potential profits pop songbooks could bring

in and so invested in individual composers’ works and other compilations to create

additional revenue streams. While a publisher would be interested in releasing a

collection of the latest or most popular songs, a radio station, a radio singing club or

individual enthusiast could also print a selection of club specialities or an audience’s

favourites. They either released a songbook in their own right or under the


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sponsorship of various advertisers, or requested a publisher to print and deliver it to

the market.

To give several examples, the Settled Villa Radio Station (Anding bieshu

guangbo diantai) published songbooks at intervals in its own name in 1934. The

editor stated that it was for the audience’s benefit that the station compiled this

collection of songs so that ‘having an issue in hand, every listener listens to and reads

music in a carefree and joyous way and learns to sing at the same time.’41 Also a

group called the Starlight Song and Dance Research Society (Xingguang gewu

yanjiushe) compiled and published 1000 Famous Film Songs (Dianying mingge

yiqian qu) in 1934 and 500 Famous Film Songs (Dianying mingge wubai qu) the

following year. Interestingly, songs collected in these two volumes are not all from

the screen but also included several works from song-and-dance programmes, arias of

Beijing operas and, surprisingly, political songs such as ‘Song of the Chinese National

Party’ (Zhongguo guomindang dangge) and ‘In Memory of the Prime Minister’

(Zongli jinian ge). Moreover, they did not include as many songs, 1000 and 500, as

the titles of these two songbooks revealed, but rather only 218 and 170 respectively.

These overstatements were just embellishment which was intended to make the

songbooks look more encyclopaedic. Rather than publishing songbooks in its own

right, like the Settled Villa Radio Station or the Starlight Song and Dance Research

Society, the Star Club (Mingxing she) released a compilation of popular songs

through a publishing house, the Generous Bookshop (Dafang shuju), as shown on its

back cover.42

There is often publication data, together with words such as ‘copyrighted,

reproduction forbidden’, inside or on the back cover of some songbooks which were

released through a publisher. However, those collections compiled by a radio station


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or club seem to be ‘not copyrighted’, because most of them did not carry proper

information about publication. In most cases, only the group or radio station’s title

and the compiler’s name were given but no clear statement regarding copyright was

made. Although song recordings were not regarded as copyrighted publications in

this period, songbooks were definitely of a ‘documentary matter and illustrations

printed by machinery or technical processes and intended for sale or distribution’

under Article 1 of the Law of Publication.43 Even so, since the statutory rights of the

composer and lyricist were not explicitly stated in the Chinese Law of Publication,

publishing houses and other groups might not contact songwriters for royalty issues

nor take into account any potential legal obligation. As a result, not only was there a

lack of publication detail in most songbooks but also the names of composers and

lyricists were even sometimes omitted from the top of a page where the information

could have conventionally been given. Songbook editors probably did not even know

who the writers were. While a publisher paid Li Jinhui royalties on the publication of

his compositions in the early years, other songwriters did not receive any financial

reward when their works were put together and published.

3. Retailers

Although both EMI and RCA-Victor had their own showrooms in Shanghai,

records were mostly sold by four types of retailers – music shops, gramophone shops,

bookshops and department stores. Gramophone shops also sometimes functioned as

wholesalers.


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Music shops

When introduced to China in the early twentieth century, gramophones and

records were mainly sold in foreign music shops which specialised in Western

musical instruments, particularly pianos, and printed music. Among these music

shops the long-established British Moutrie & Co. and Robinson Piano Co. opened in

the 1870s while the well-known Sam Lázaro Brothers was founded later by a Goa-

born Portuguese pianist Sam Lázaro in 1924.44 Before the emergence of professional

gramophone shops in the late 1920s, music shops were the primary distribution

channels for gramophone records and most recordings available there were mainly

Western music and some Chinese operas. These shops either imported records of

Euro-American music direct from abroad or made purchases through the local agents

of record companies.45 However, in relation to other existing merchandise, records

were just extra items offered in a music shop and it seems that the major music shops

never regarded records as important stock items, particularly after record shops came

to the fore. It was inevitable that in due course music shops would give way to

gramophone shops in the record trade. Among the music shops listed in yellow pages

published in the late 1930’s when a few record shops had opened in Shanghai, only

the Grand Music Store, run by a Czech, Alois Suchochleb, clearly stated that it

provided gramophones and records.46

Gramophone shops

Although being important distributors of records in the early years, music

shops did not play an important part in the dissemination of Shanghai popular songs.

The creation of Chinese popular music in modern times started in the late 1920s when


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music shops were no longer the main channels of gramophone records in the

marketplace. After a series of acquisitions and mergers between record companies in

Europe and America in the early 1930s, the time when the production of Shanghai

popular songs was about to take off, surviving recording conglomerates overseas

became larger and stronger and thus their subsidiaries in China could move in to

establish local sales networks. With a stable supply of a wide range of records from

major record companies and the growing popularity of record playing among Chinese

people came a strong demand for a professional supply service. Therefore a number

of gramophone shops opened up to provide all kinds of music recordings and various

models of gramophones and radio receivers. Among these were the Shanghai Talking

Machine Company (Dasheng wuxiandian changji hang), the Sing Sung Phonograph

Company (Xinsheng changji gongsi), the Golden Sound Phonograph (Jinsheng

changji gongsi) and the Pao Fang Company (Baofang gongsi), whose shop windows

were all pictured and taken as models of good window-dressing designs in the first

issue of Pathé Monthly. These shops maintained close connections with record

companies and most of them could place purchase orders straight to the major

companies where their order departments were responsible for order processing.

Those shops which had a bank’s endorsement and an adequate amount of business

capital were also allowed credit to purchase records in large quantities, and therefore

some were able to provide a mail order service or, functioning as wholesalers, supply

records nationwide to other shops in smaller cities.47

Bookshops

Bookshops had been selling records from probably about the time that records

of Li Jinhui’s children’s musical drama, recorded by the local Great China Records,


139

were attached to the scripts, published by the China Book Bureau and sold in

bookshops. For example, the Civilisation Book Bureau (Wenming shuju), one of

those bookshops which published sheet music of Li’s love songs, sold records of all

major labels in the 1930s, in a similar way to those professional gramophone shops.

Unlike music shops, some bookshops maintained a business in record retailing

throughout the whole Shanghai era of Chinese popular music even though not all

bookshops offered records, and in the late 1940s, the Central Book Store (Zhongyang

shuju), for instance, was still exclusively offering all kinds of the latest pop records

released by EMI.48

Department stores

Another notable outlet was the department store, and there were four premier

department stores in Shanghai. The first among them, the Sincere Company (Xianshi

gongsi), came into existence in 1917, and the other three, Wing On (Yongan), Sun

Sun (Xinxin) and Dah Sun (Daxin) opened respectively in 1918, 1926 and 1936. The

way in which these department stores operated, by displaying a wide range of

consumer products tastefully in a well-organised order and selling at a fixed price,

was quite different to the traditional Chinese retail practices in which prices were

always negotiable and access to goods of high value and quality was only given to a

limited number of wealthier customers who had been properly introduced.49 In these

department stores, with the requirement that all commodities be presented attractively,

records together with gramophones and radios were usually sold in a specific area in a

way that resembled a small gramophone shop. The vast number of prospective

customers attracted by the novelty and the collection of goods, together with the

spacious shopping area, also made a department store an ideal place for promotional


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events. For example, in 1934 Win On held a three-day live performance in

association with RCA-Victor, in which recording stars were invited to sing their latest

numbers in the ‘music section’ of the store, which was then also broadcast live by a

local radio station. The store also offered singers’ photos in a buy-one-get-one-free

promotion to those who purchased records during the event.50

4. Film companies

The use of songs in films did not, of course, begin until the introduction of

sound into films in China. The years 1930 to 1936 saw a period of transition when

production turned gradually from silent films to sound films and both silent and sound

films became available in the marketplace. In the early 1930s, after the introduction

of sound on the screen, its use was simply to fill up the soundtrack of a film with

songs or accompanying music but dialogue and other audio content were usually not

recorded. Not until 1935 did sound films become dominant.51

Major film companies in Shanghai had different attitudes towards the

production of sound films and never shared common ground on whether or not to

invest in this new technology. In 1930 the Star Motion Picture (Mingxing yingpian

gongsi) made the first sound film in China – Sing-song Girl Red Peony (Genü

hongmudan) featuring four arias from Beijing opera. With the technical support of

Pathé Orient, this film used the earlier sound-on-disc format to record the dialogue

and music. Acquiring the assistance of three American engineers, the Unique Films

(Tianyi yingpian gongsi) also produced its first sound film The Romance of the Sing-

song House (Gechang chunse) in 1931. This film utilised the more advanced optical

recording, which photographically recorded sound directly onto the side of the strip of


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motion picture film. The United Photoplay (Lianhua yingye gongsi), which was

inclined to support leftists, opted to retain its interest in silent films, although it had

also produced several tentative sound productions using the sound-on-disc format,

such as Loose Women Picked Up by Men (Yecao xianhua) in 1930 and Twin Stars of

the Silver Screen (Yinhan shuangxing) in 1931.52

However, Lianhua’s Loose Woman Picked Up By Men did set a record with

regard to the history of Chinese cinema. ‘Words on Seeking Brother’ (Xunxiong ci)

in the film is the first song exclusively written for a Chinese film. It is also the first

time that the leading actors had sung on the screen. The lyrics were written by the

film director Sun Yu and the music was composed by his brother Sun Chengbi. To

ensure that the singing was synchronised with the actors’ lips on the screen, Sun Yu

took his assistant to the cinema and played the disc himself for three days. In addition

to the original disc played in the cinema, this song was also recorded by the local

Great China and New Moon Records, accompanied by a Chinese ensemble and a

Western band respectively, and the gramophone records together with the sheet music

were put up for sale on the film’s release day.53 Although there is no extant report or

evidence as to whether this record was commercially successful, the release of film

songs on records set an example for the industry and the film and recording industry

have been closely linked ever since.

As the sound-on-disc format could cause synchronisation problems, there was

a need for it to be supplanted by the technology of sound on film. With the steady

development and increasing popularity of sound films, film companies maintained

their own recording facilities, recruited music professionals, organised the production

of film songs and recorded them optically on film.54 However, these recordings could

only be played through the optical projection of films in the cinema and it was


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impossible to retrieve the sound by other methods. Since there was no equipment

capable of converting to audio from optical signals, any song intended for release to

the public in the form of a gramophone record had to be re-recorded. Actors who

performed in the film, or other designated singers of the song, were thus required to

sing again in the recording studio of a record company.

Film songs could be released either before or after screenings or might never

even be made into records. It all depended on how a film company decided to

promote a film and whether a record company saw financial benefit in making a

recording of a film song. For example, it was part of the filmmaker’s marketing plan

to issue ‘Words on Seeking Brother’ as a record before the film was shown on the

assumption that the audience would buy the record immediately after seeing the film.

Film advertisements in newspapers in the 1930s usually stressed that songs in a film

had been recorded and released. For example, three days before the premiere of

Street Angel (Malu tienshi), the Star Motion Picture announced that two film songs,

the famous ‘The Wandering Songstress’ and ‘The Song of Four Seasons’ both

performed by Zhou Xuan, had been recorded by EMI. Because EMI had made its

name known to the Chinese people in the 1930s, placing an advertisement with the

information that film songs were issued by an established record company would

impress on the audience that the production of songs had met a high enough standard

to be released.55 Similarly, to demonstrate its close connection to RCA-Victor, Yi

Hwa Motion Picture (Yihua yingye gongsi) ran an advertisement for the film Exile

(Taowang) one day before its release to declare that two of the songs in the film,

‘Song of Exile’ (Taowang qu) and ‘Girl from the Village in the North’ (Saibei cunnü),

had been made into a record by RAC-Victor.56


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Sometimes a film company could even publicise extra information about film

songs. For example, for its new film A Red Chamber in the Deep Spring (Honglou

chunshen) together with the screen song ‘Song of Picking Lotus’ (Cailian ge), in 1934

the Unique Films ran a full-page advertisement in The Shun Pao Daily on the release

which proclaimed that

All dancehalls from today onwards play the music ‘Song of Picking Lotus’

from A Red Chamber in the Deep Spring

All radio stations from today onwards play the record ‘Song of Picking

Lotus’ sung by Chen Yumei

Pathé from today onwards is releasing the record, Chen Yumei singing ‘Song

of Picking Lotus’, No. 34671.57

Obviously the song was a major selling point for the film company.

While the film companies promoted films by highlighting film songs and

demonstrating the support from major record companies for these songs, the record

companies found that both film stars and the films themselves were also an

endorsement for records. EMI, for example, placed a half-page advertisement for its

newly released record compilations of songs from six films produced by different film

companies in Young Companion (Liangyou) in 1934, with distinctive catch lines:

An unprecedented contribution [in which] Pathé has sought and collected

songs from sound films of all major companies

Grand exhibition of contemporary Chinese songs; general mobilisation of

stars from the screen58

The advertisement gave details of the composer, lyricist and singer of each song, the

title of the film from which each song came, the catalogue number of each record and


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pointed out that all six films had been screened around 10 October, a month before the

publication of the advertisement. The text of the advertisement, particularly the catch

line, was apparently intended to show off the record company’s matchless capacity to

recruit film stars to in order to make recordings.

As a matter of commercial interest, record companies reacted to the market

and took the initiative by recording any film song which they considered potentially

profitable. They usually requested film stars to make recordings of film songs, yet

sometimes other celebrated singers would also be invited to reinterpret the songs.

After the screening of the legendary film The Wandering Songstress in the Golden

Castle Theatre (Jindu da xiyuan) over the Chinese New Year in 1941, EMI

immediately recognised the potential of the film songs to be great hits, so the stars in

the film were asked to re-record the songs. There were originally ten songs in the

film, eight of which were sung by the leading lady Zhou Xuan and the other two by

guest performers Yao Li and Du Jie. Zhou Xuan was still selected to make the eight

songs into gramophone records and Yao Li was appointed to perform the other two.59

As by then Yao was also a famous radio singer and had made her name known to the

public in several recordings, the reason for EMI’s decision was self-evident.

On the one hand, a record company would seize any opportunity to make

records of songs from successful films, yet on the other, it might ignore songs which

it considered less appealing to the audience. A case in point is the musical film

Orioles Flying on Earth (Ying fei renjian), which was produced by the famous

director Fang Peilin in 1946. The film featured extravagant scenic settings and twelve

exquisite songs, composers of which included the reputable pop songwriters Li

Jinguang, Chen Gexing and Yao Min, and a musician from the Shanghai

Conservatory of Music, Huang Yijun. The classically trained soprano Ouyang


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Feiying was the leading actor and singer and the eminent tenor Huang Feiran was also

invited to sing a duet with her in this film. EMI only selected ten songs in Orioles

Flying on Earth to make recordings, supposing that the rest of them were too

unattractive to be popular with the general public. Lee Leng-kok indicates that since

‘The Theme Song of Orioles Flying on Earth’ (Yingfei renjian zhutiqu), one of the

two unreleased songs, was not a solo piece for Ouyang but a mixed chorus performed

by students from the Shanghai Conservatory of Music, and that its lyrics were full of

satirical attacks on profiteers at that time, it was not surprising that EMI chose not

made a record of it.60

No matter how the recording industry made the decision whether to record a

film song or how filmmakers promoted their films by using songs, they were now tied

to each other in taking advantage of the channels that they dominated and shared.

Composers of Shanghai popular songs were a bridge between the two industries.

Although the terms of RCA-Victor’s relationship with film companies are not clear,

the critical roles of the Chinese musical director and composers working in EMI

illustrate this point.

On paper, the foreign manager’s decision was final, but in fact the Chinese

musical director also had a pivotal role in the assessment of prospective new releases.

Ren Guang was a composer who had a close connection with many leftists, including

musicians, writers and filmmakers. On the one hand, as a head of the recording studio

he had to discover musical works of commercial potential, ranging from traditional

operas to newly composed popular songs, and keep foreign managing directors

satisfied with sales figures. It cannot be denied that many of Li Jinhui’s love songs

and other songwriters’ works which were harshly condemned by leftists were indeed

released by Pathé Oriental, or later by EMI, during Ren’s term as Musical Director.61


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On the other hand, as a member of several left wing societies which maintained covert

links with the Chinese Communist Party, he assumed the responsibility of introducing

more leftist musicians’ compositions and songs in leftist films to a wider audience.

Although song lyrics were usually translated into English to be approved by foreign

managers before a recording session, the example of the song ‘Huangpu River’

(Huangpu jiang) from the film New Women (Xin nüxing) shows that this was not

always the case. This film featured two songs, ‘Song of New Women’ (Xin nüxing

ge) and ‘Huangpu River’ both of which were made into records by EMI. While the

former was successful and gained popularity, the later was not only censored before

the film was screened but also officially banned. ‘Huangpu River’ was in fact

adapted from Li Jinhui’s romantic ‘The River of Peach Blossom’ (Taohua jiang) with

rewritten lyrics for the film. Because the lyrics described the Huangpu River, which

the Bund was adjacent to and most foreign banks and companies were located by, as

‘the den of enemies’ and cursed that ‘those who occupy the land are all devils’, the

song was considered to be a message of anti-imperialism which could lead to chaos.

As a result, EMI could only leave all copies of the record in the stockroom.62

Obviously, if foreign managers had read the lyrics carefully and appreciated the

innuendo, Ren Guang would have not been able to produce the record in the first

place.

In the years of Fu Xiangxun’s term as dramatic director, those composers who

were employed full-time in EMI also wrote songs at the request of film companies

and kept on good terms with other musicians in the industry. They would therefore

have participated in the decision-making with regard to whether or not to record a

song, particularly their own compositions. After one of these prolific songwriters, Li

Ginguang, was promoted to take the position of musical director in EMI in 1945, the


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production and release of film songs was completely undertaken by Chinese

personnel.

5. Radio stations

The number of stations varied from time to time in the 1930s and 1940s due to

the change in the political and social situation, but there were always approximately

twenty radio stations broadcasting in Shanghai.63 Although state radio stations may

have allocated timeslots for pop programmes, it was primarily through two dominant

forms of entertainment programmes, record playing and live performances by singing

clubs, which were broadcast by commercial stations that popular songs were heard

across the whole of Shanghai.

Record playing

Playing records on the air was probably the simplest and most economical way

to produce a programme, particularly for those small stations equipped with nothing

more than a low-powered radio transmitter and operated by amateur radio clubs.64 It

seemed that to most of the audience in the 1930s and 1940s the songs being broadcast

were more important than those who chose and played them. Since there was neither

any feature article or column concerning programme hosts in the print media, nor was

there any programme with a particular host known to the public, there seemed no

specific personnel in the radio stations functioning as professional disc jockeys,

playing records and giving introductions to or comments on songs. The names of

programme sponsors and some introductions to their products or services were also

delivered live to the public by the staff of a station because there was no pre-recorded


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radio advertising at that time. Typically a record-playing programme appearing in a

schedule was usually only titled ‘Records’ rather than the name of a DJ or programme

host, sometimes with supplementary words merely to describe the music content,

‘Chinese’ or ‘Latest’, for example.

The length of a record-playing programme might generally range from fifteen

minutes to an hour. A shorter one was usually meant to introduce new releases or to

fill in the time gap between longer programmes, while an hour-long programme was

better organised and would play listeners’ requests. Some of the audience preferred

listening to records rather than songs performed live by singing clubs because they

thought that every record was a masterpiece made with meticulous care by a famous

artist and an ordinary radio singer’s technique was simply not as good as that of a

trained recording star.65 They would try their best to get a request played by writing

to the radio station or by telephoning when a programme was being broadcast. To

meet the various needs of the audience, radio stations did their utmost to seek out and

collect all kinds of records and borrowed from record companies when a specific

record was not available on the market.

However, the audience were seldom satisfied. As it took almost seven

minutes to play a two-side gramophone record, taking into consideration time

reserved for advertising, only six records at most could be played in an hour-long

programme and even less in a shorter one. An infuriated listener, under the

pseudonym ‘a female villain’ (baixiangren saosao), made a complaint in The

Shanghai Radio Weekly (Shanghai wuxiandian):

I thought you should have received my last letter but why didn’t you play my

requests? Are you blind or something? From today onwards, should you fail

to play my requests, your station will be shut down soon.66


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Obviously, this dissatisfied listener’s requests had never been played due to the

limited time available for the programme, partly because there were too many

requests made by listeners and partly because advertisements took up so much time.

As a reader of The Shun Pao Daily indicated, there was often a five-minute,

sometimes even ten, commercial break after a three-minute song.67 No wonder the

‘female villain’ was irritated.

Live performance

In the 1930s and 1940s people had more choice of vocal music than before.

Traditional folk and operatic music was no longer the only option in Chinese people’s

musical life after school songs, children’s musical dramas, love songs, leftist mass

songs and different kinds of film songs came into existence and were delivered

through gramophone records, radio broadcastings and sound films. Those who were

more keen on singing than listening to songs organised other like-minded people to

form the so-called ‘music club’ (yinyueshe) or ‘singing club’ (geyongshe), and

gathered regularly to sing the latest songs accompanied by several members playing

instruments. These clubs gradually moved from singing in private gatherings to

performing on radio.

The first radio singer group is the Art Transformation Club (Yihua she), which

was founded in 1932 and had its debut in the China-West Radio Station (Zhongxi

diantai).68 As the Art Transformation Club was an amateur group, the members only

went to the radio station once a week on Sunday. Although there had already been on

radio a wide range of live programmes of traditional story-telling ballads, folk songs

and operas, the audience in the early 1930s could only listen to records playing


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popular songs on the air. Despite being broadcast only once a week, the brand-new

live programme of popular songs soon caught the audience’s attention. Enthusiastic

about the programme, the owner of the China-West Radio Station even donated

several musical instruments to support the Art Transformation Club. The successful

amateur live performance of popular songs on radio paved the way for future

commercial programmes. Six months later, the first commercial singing club, the

Wonderful Sound Group (Miaoyin tuan), was organised by Ma Loufen, a former

member of Li Jinhui’s song-and-dance troupe who left the troupe during the Southeast

Asia tour.69 By the third day of the group’s trial run on radio, four shops had

approached them and agreed to offer sponsorship. Seeing the group’s impressive

performance and the financial reward they had reaped, more and more radio music

clubs mushroomed and joined the broadcasting industry.

When Ma Loufen set up the first commercial radio singing club, the rate at

which they charged a sponsor for a programme broadcast on a daily basis was 320

dollars per month, out of which each member received from 20 up to 50 according to

his or her capacity and status in the club. In comparison to a factory labourer whose

average monthly pay rate in 1933 was approximately 15 dollars, performing in a

couple of programmes a day a singing club member could be amply rewarded with a

huge salary every month.70 To those who were able to sing several tunes or play an

instrument nothing could be more attractive than performing on radio and making a

decent living, and therefore one after another music clubs went to radio stations.

According to timetables of singing programmes, there were no more than three pop

singing programmes everyday in Shanghai in March 1933, in July 1934 there were

nine clubs delivering live performance on radio, and by September 1935 the number

of radio singing clubs soared to twenty-three.71


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The increase in the number of music clubs over the airwaves in Shanghai

caused problems. All of them faced heavy competition and thus were forced to bite

the bullet and cut prices to bid for advertisers resulting in a drastic decline in 1936 to

50 dollars in the revenue a programme generated each month. Additionally, the

quality of the singing programmes went down due to poor organisation and a lack of

proper training. Some members, who were in fact neither competent singers nor

skilful instrumentalists, joined a club just because radio singing was in fashion. They

could not read music, not articulate words of lyrics properly, and sometimes not even

follow the beat. Moreover, some undisciplined club members invited non-singer

friends to the studio and romped with female singers, which could even be heard by

the audience during the broadcast.72 This chaotic mess ended up with a string of

music clubs disbanded. In the late 1930s and early 1940s the number of singing clubs

stayed at ten, whereas only four clubs were still singing regularly on radio upon the

liberation of Shanghai in 1949.

A singing club could be composed of as few as three or up to ten members,

usually including at least a male pianist, sometimes one more violinist or guitarist,

and two or three female singers. However, the size of a club was not a factor in its

success as there were also small groups which had won great popularity. The famous

Great Unity Club (Datong she), headed by the brother and sister Yao Min and Yao Li,

had only three artists and a presenter. During its heyday in the late 1930s, the club

had to split their afternoons and evenings among five stations in Shanghai and the

four members were obliged to do an entire forty-minute show, where Yao Li was the

leading singer, Yao Min played piano and sometimes sang as well, their uncle played

the violin.73 Similar to record-playing programmes, live performances also carried


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commercial advertising. In Great Unity Club, it was the presenter, the elder sister

Yao Ying, who was responsible for advertising their sponsor’ products or services.

Although singing clubs might be hired by a radio station, most of them

preferred to seek their own sponsorship to earn more for themselves and just paid the

studio rental fee to the owner of station. Hence, some artists formed their own club

and looked for more opportunities after they had been employed by a radio station for

a period.74 While some clubs made their own lists of songs to perform in a

programme, some took requests from listeners in order to encourage audience

participation, to show the great number of songs in their repertoire and to convince

sponsors that their programmes were recognised by a wide audience. Some shops

distributed their own flyers, or placed adverts in newspapers or magazines, in which

the audience could find a request form and relevant information such as programme

timetables, station frequencies and the names of the clubs they supported. Any

listener who was interested in making a request could send the request form by post to

the music club or the radio station or to the sponsor. Some proprietors supported a

music club by periodically issuing a collection of songs as a guide for tunes and

lyrics, with pictures of leading singers on the cover page endorsing their products or

services. Such a collection of songs provided the audience with a clearer idea of a

club’s repertoire so that songs they requested would be the club’s specialities.75

Curiously no record company, in its capacity as a copyright holder or on behalf of its

contracted songwriters who kept the copyright, ever raised any issue of the right of

reproduction of music and lyrics in those collections of songs. Above all, in addition

to sending a request form by post, the easiest and perhaps most efficient way, though

costly, was making a phone call to the radio station when a show was on the air.


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6. Dancehalls

Western style social dancing was considered alien upon its introduction to

China after the Great War, yet in the 1930s it became one of the most fashionable

leisure activities in some coastal cities among Chinese people. With the boom in the

popularity of dancing and its integration into Chinese people’s daily life in Shanghai,

dancehalls in different sizes and styles emerged in profusion, not only in the foreign

concessions but also in the Chinese area. As Andrew D. Field describes, in Shanghai

while the daytime economy suffered from political instability and business recession,

‘the shadow-world of cabarets continued to prosper, to the chagrin of failing

businessmen and patriots alike.’76 Whatever class a dancehall was rated, there were

always Chinese patrons and thus a need for variety in music. Although Euro-

American music, such as big band jazz or crooners’ latest hits, were undoubtedly the

standard programmes in top class places favoured by foreigners and the local Chinese

elite, jazzy Chinese popular songs, which were coming to people’s ears in the early

1930s, and other familiar folk tunes seemed more attractive to ordinary local

customers. Tunes from Hollywood films and Broadway musicals were never

superseded by Chinese pops in dancehalls, except during the Japanese occupation of

the entire city. However, those numbers were no longer the only choice after Li

Jinhui’s love songs and other Chinese songwriters’ works marched into dancehalls.

Although the exact timing of the adoption of Chinese pop at dancehalls in

Shanghai is unclear, extant documentation shows that the Wind Dance Band

(Qingfeng wuyuedui), which was trained by Li Jinhui himself, was the first group that

brought Li’s musical works to the dance floor.77 In 1934, the gangster Du Yuesheng

commissioned Li Jinhui to organise a jazz band for the newly opened dancehall in the

Yangzi Hotel (Yangzi fandian), and required that the band be composed exclusively


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of Chinese members, especially the tall and strong Northern Chinese so that they

would not be mistaken for Filipinos. Instructed by Li, the band had a repertoire

consisting of foreign music, like that played in first class cabarets, and Chinese tunes,

together with some vocal works which sing-song girls could sing to the band’s

accompaniment. Working in a room of the hotel with the assistance of two members

of his song-and-dance troupe, Zhang Huang and Zhang Xian, Li rearranged his own

works together with other folk tunes and turned them into dances. The whole idea

was a great success, which filled the dancehall to capacity every night. As Chinese

melodies were certainly welcome and it was much cheaper to hire a Chinese band, in

comparison to the Filipinos and White Russians who had long dominated the cabarets

in Shanghai, other dancehalls followed Yangzi’s new path. Li also gave much

assistance to some of them, including recruiting instrumentalists and providing music

for free.78 In this way, besides the silver screen and the airwaves, another stage had

been set up for Chinese popular music.

Along with the trend of employing Chinese jazz bands, some dancehalls

started to hire Cantonese bands, which were amateur ensembles organised by

Cantonese people in Shanghai and devoted to Cantonese opera and folk music. In

1936, several members of the established Three Surplus Cantonese Music Club

(Sanyu yueyue she) were invited to deliver a live performance in the Lunar Palace

Dancehall (Yuegong wuting). As their music made a favourable impression on the

customers, they were engaged to perform regularly. Although it is perhaps beyond

one’s imagination today how traditional Cantonese music fitted into Western style

ballroom dance, Lunar Palace set a new fashion and led some establishments to

follow it. While in the beginning all programmes came from the traditional

repertoire, the latest popular tunes were later added on to meet patrons’ various


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requests. In 1942 a Cantonese band leader, Chen He, tried to integrate Western

instruments, including the accordion, violin, piano, guitar, bass and drummer’s kit,

into the band and, with an audacious step, discarded the most important huqin and

substituted popular songs in the traditional repertory. The move was exceptionally

successful and, consequently, other dancehalls had no alternative but to require their

Cantonese bands to do the same.79

Despite the fact that Chinese jazz and Cantonese bands had been playing their

part in the dissemination of Chinese popular song, they were in a minority.

Moreover, they were undeniably far less skilful than their White Russian or Filipino

counterparts, and thus could hardly compete for the opportunity to enter high-class

cabarets. It is generally believed that it was the foreign bands that took on the work of

playing Chinese pop at most dancehalls as they did in the recording studios.

Nevertheless, several places still excluded Chinese music from their programmes. It

was not surprisingly reported as unprecedented in 1939 when the Paramount

Dancehall decided to include five film songs from Songs and Tears (Gesheng leihen)

in its regular programmes.80 The unshakable dominance of American jazz and dance

music in upmarket cabarets remained firm until the Japanese military took over the

whole of Shanghai in 1942. Regarded as ‘the enemy’s cultural products’, the latest

Hollywood screen songs and big band dance numbers were forced to withdraw from

the dance floor and give way to Chinese songs in the entertainment world. Even top

dancehalls had to modify their programmes to accommodate the political change. For

example, in 1942, Paramount advertised for female singers in the long-established

The Shun Pao Daily. In the same year, a Chinese group, Appreciation Band (Zhiyin

dayuedui) led by the pop songwriter Yan Gefan, made their name by playing in

Cathay (Guotai).81 Although American music reclaimed its place following the end


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of the War, Chinese songs had come to the fore and were now essential in most live

music venues.

The irresistible charm of cabaret dancing, apart from the swaying bodies of

taxi hostesses, was the live music delivered by a competent band with singers. For

this reason, most dancehalls made every effort to arrange live performances in order

to compete with one another for more customers. Sometimes a good band and singers

could drive male guests so excited after a dance that they dashed to the stage and,

with harsh and raucous voices, gave an obviously uninvited solo recital. Perhaps

getting bored with shuffling and swinging endlessly or having an ambition to become

songstresses, some dancing hostesses also got on the stage and delivered the latest

popular tunes.82 However, in order to cut cost or simply being unable to afford a

band, some small-scale dancehalls or cafés just played records, including American

big band jazz and Chinese popular songs. It was generally acceptable, or even

welcomed, to play records in a café which had not originally been intended as a place

for dancing, whereas a dancehall would be considered inferior if a gramophone was

used there instead of a musical band.

The last two years of the Sino-Japanese War saw a sudden increase in the

number of Chinese pop concerts in Shanghai’s cinemas and theatres as well as of live

performances at restaurants and cafés. Though both condemned by the Nationalists as

‘decadent sounds’ (mimi zhi yin) and regarded by the leftist critics as vulgar

entertainment detrimental to national salvation, it seems that under the puppet regime

controlled by the Japanese, Shanghai popular songs had broken through the

ideological barrier and risen to an even higher status. Concerts held in 1944 and 1945

were unprecedented and entirely different from song-and-dance programmes in the

1930s. A song-and-dance troupe was a self-contained group consisting of its own


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instrumentalists, actors and other administrators, whose typical show in an ordinary

Chinese theatre included singing and dancing, most of the time based on a connected

series of events that made up a story. Unlike those song-and-dance performances,

these later Chinese pop concerts usually featured the most popular recording singers

and film stars delivering either the latest hits or their personal specialities, with

accompaniment by a full-scale orchestra conducted by pop songwriters themselves, or

sometimes foreign professional orchestra conductors. Taking in several forms, such

as solo or joint recitals, charity concerts and non-stop performances by various artists,

these concerts were mainly held in upmarket venues such as the deluxe Grand Theatre

which used to screen first-run Hollywood films until 1942 and the Lyceum Theatre

which had long been a stage exclusively for Western dramas, ballets and classical

music. Sometimes, Western classical orchestral works, art songs or arias from operas

might even be woven into a pop concert.

A case in point is Bai Guang’s solo recital held in the Lyceum Theatre in May

1945. The whole concert was divided into four sections. The first quarter featured

the overture from Jacques Offenbach’s operetta Orphée aux Enfers (Orpheus in the

Underworld), performed by the orchestra, and two arias from a French opera by Bai

Guang. The second included selections from Franz Lehar’s operetta Die Lustige

Witwe (The Merry Widow) and two Chinese songs. With the songwriter Chen Gexin

as orchestra conductor, after three popular songs performed by herself and two violin

solos given by a guest violinist in the third quarter, in the fourth Bai sang another

three songs and gave an encore piece to end the concert. In a similar fashion, other

singers, including Bai Hong, Li Xianglan, Ouyan Feiying and Qu Yunyun, also had

their solo or joint concerts, in which they performed not only the most favourite

Chinese pops but also some Western classical works. Although the celebrated singer


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Zhou Xuan was not as proficient as others in Western classical works, in March 1945

she gave a most successful concert of film songs, titled the Silver Screen Trilogy

(Yinhai sanbuqu), in which she sang many songs from three of her smash hit films

with an orchestra conducted by the writers of those songs Chen Gexin and Li

Jinguang. Above all, a concert of Chen Gexin’s works in the Lyceum Theatre on 30

June 1945 was unprecedented and unrepeatable. The announcement for the concert

was placed in The Shun Pao Daily for six consecutive days, with a ringing

endorsement given by four other well-known songwriters. Supported both by EMI

and by RCA-Victor with an orchestra conducted by Chen himself, over fifty singers

and film stars gathered in Lyceum to perform Chen’s works.83

With regard to live performance at restaurants and cafés, although it is

believed that programmes of Chinese popular songs had been introduced in the 1930s,

it was not until 1944 and 1945 that a great number of these establishments, either

renowned hotel-restaurants or ordinary cafés, began to promote shows featuring

female singers and musical bands delivering the latest Chinese songs. Some of them

also provided a dance floor so that guests could bop and jig the night away after

having a good meal. Unlike pop concerts, which were no longer held on the same

scale as previously mentioned after 1945, live performances in dining venues

continued to thrive until 1949. Restaurants competed with one another, as well as

with dancehalls, to employ celebrated singers and placed a mass of advertisements

both in leading daily newspapers and in tabloids.

An interesting case of a music café illustrates how an owner strove to gain the

initiative in this competitive environment. In 1942, the Japanese-organised Chinese

United Production (Zhonghua lianhe zhipian gongsi) released Four Sisters (Si jiemei),

starring four established film and singing stars, Gong Qiuxia, Chen Qi, Zhang Fan and


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Chen Juanjuan. They played the four sisters in the film and had been identified by the

audience as the elder, second, third and younger sisters ever since. Seeing the strong

impression Four Sisters had made, someone opened a ‘Four Sister Music Café’ (Si

jiemei kafei yinyueting) and invited these four sisters and other singers to give a live

performance.84 Another advertisement in The Shun Pao Daily run by the Golden Gate

Hotel (Jinmen da jiudian) for its attached restaurant sheds more light on this kind of

promotional stunt:

Would you care to see the band from the Pathé Records? Right here in our

place

Would you care to meet stars on the records?Right here in our place

Regal Orchestra led by Gingang playing with excitement85

As Jingang is in fact one of the several pseudonyms of Li Jinguang, the musical

director of EMI at the time, and EMI never maintained any in-house band, it is

possible that through Li the operator of the restaurant could arrange performances by

recording stars and a group of instrumentalists frequently hired in recording sessions

by the record company.

7. Regulatory institutions

As there were only three record companies equipped with manufacturing

facilities in 1930s and 1940s Shanghai, piracy of copyrighted recordings was never a

problem in the recording industry. The dispute over whether radio stations had to pay

licence fees to play records on the air in 1935 appears to be the only case in this

period in which issues concerning copyright had been brought up and finally settled

by the judicial department. There had been no further arguments ever since, and no

governmental institution or trade association had dealt with matters of copyright.

There was no specific institution responsible for the regulation of the production and


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distribution of popular music, but instead censorship over popular songs was

generally exercised under the film censorship and broadcasting regulations by

different governing bodies. Before 1937, all three distinct municipal entities had their

own organisations in charge of film censorship and the administration of

broadcasting.

The Ministry of Transport and Communication of the National Government

set a national policy on the operation of radio stations in 1929 and began its

nationwide control over all private stations, including those owned by Chinese in the

concessions. The Ministry also laid down guidelines for radio programming in the

mid 1930s, which stipulated that a broadcast must

have a clear and righteous purpose;

not be detrimental to public security;

conform to the principles of the party [KMT];

not be obscene;

not contain superstition, spirits and ghosts;

not defy scientific principles;

not defy the ethic spirit;

not contain low-class vulgarity;

not promote feudal ideology.86

To establish its control over broadcasting organisations, the Shanghai

Municipal Council proposed in 1932 to call for a taxpayers’ meeting to discuss issues

regarding the regulation of radio stations in the settlement. However, due to the

intervention of the Chinese Telecommunication Bureau of the Ministry of Transport

and Communication, the Council never really implemented whatever resolution the


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meeting had passed. In the Frenchtown, the French Municipal Council promulgated a

code in 1933, which stated that political propaganda, news liable to disturb public

order, programmes against morality and private letters must be excluded on the radio.

In 1938 the Council ordained that all radio stations within the French jurisdiction

submit programmes to the Service of Police Force before broadcast to the public and

the Council then set up an organisation to monitor radio broadcasts in the same year.87

The ordinance was in fact redundant. As a result of the Japanese military entering

Shanghai, a supervision department of radio broadcasting was set up to take over the

position of the Ministry of Transport and Communication as a telecommunications

regulator, and the Shanghai Municipal Council and French Municipal Council soon

recognised the Japanese military’s supervision over broadcasting in Shanghai. In late

1941, following the outbreak of the war in the Pacific Ocean, the Japanese military

police and information department started to take part in the administration of radio

stations in the foreign concessions and shortly thereafter closed down all the radio

stations in Shanghai that were not associated with the Japanese by the end of that

year.88 From April 1942 onwards, the propaganda department of the Japanese-

controlled puppet regime assumed authority over radio stations in Shanghai, until the

end of the war.

Although the Chinese authorities had long condemned Shanghai popular songs

as decadent sounds, as institutions involved in the production and distribution were

primarily based in the foreign concessions, no actions could be taken before 1945.

Nevertheless, even when the Chinese government regained control over the mass

media after the war, there were still no effective measures carried out to discourage

the general public from listening to popular songs, because ‘popular songs were

hummed by civil servants, sung by the academic staff, heard in the governmental


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propaganda unit, and even taken as materials for music courses at school.’89 Despite

an ordinance that restricted ‘decadent sounds’ being delivered over the airwaves, the

state-owned Shanghai Radio Station still did not withdraw popular songs from its

programmes. In response to a written reprimand issued by the Central Department of

Broadcasting Administration in 1946, the station claimed that as popular and film

songs were the audience’s favourites, for the sake of advertising revenue it was

simply out of the question to stop playing these songs.90

As for the film censorship, in the International Settlement, the Police

Department of the Municipal Council had been granted the authority to examine and

approve the screening of films since 1930, which was previously exercised by the

Film Censorship Commission. Films containing obscenity or indecency or liable to

cause a breach of the peace or affect the good order were not allowed to be shown in

the settlement and had to be removed. Likewise, in 1932 the Service of Police Force

began to take charge of the censorship in the French Concession and adopted similar

criteria that contents considered to be immoral or injurious to public order were

strictly forbidden.91

In Chinese territories, the censorship was performed by the Central Board of

Censors (Zhongyang dianying jiancha weiyuanhui) established in 1933, under the

Law of Film Censorship promulgated by the Ministry of Education in association with

the Ministry of the Interior in 1930. The Board developed criteria against which films

were examined. These were whether the contents affronted the dignity of the Chinese

people, defied the principles of the party, breached traditional morality or threatened

public order and advocated superstition or heretical ideas. Although the Japanese in

Shanghai had long intervened in film censorship, it was not until the Japanese military

invaded and occupied Chinese territory in 1937 that the Shanghai Japanese Consulate


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General began to exercise their power both within the Chinese authorities and in those

of foreign concessions. After the war, the Chinese National Government promulgated

provisional regulations to control all sorts of mass media, and hence for the first time

the Chinese government got control of film censorship in the whole city.

However, it appeared that the authorities would concentrate more on the plots

and images of a film rather than on screen songs, whoever conducted the censorship.

When part of a film was cut out or simply the entire film was banned because of its

story line, songs it carried would certainly be removed and the recordings not

released, but few films had been partially deleted or banned because songs they

contained were regarded as politically inappropriate. The Japanese-controlled puppet

Shanghai City Government once publicised a list of officially banned songs in 1943,

announcing that:

As lyrics and tunes have an immense impact on the moral of a country and

the morale of its people, in order to eradicate the evil and heterodox belief,

every effort should certainly be made to ban all those which are opposed to

national policies and incompatible to the value of the times.92

Needless to say, the policy and value of a puppet government was to keep on good

terms with the nation which had control over it. Thus, anti-Japanese songs and songs

with connotations of the fight against Japan were all on the list, including two of Nie

Er’s film songs, ‘Graduation Song’ (Biye ge) and ‘March of the Volunteers’

(Yiyongjun jinxingqu), which had been released by EMI in 1935.


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III. The consuming process

Although the most active participants in the consuming process would appear

to be the audience, the critics and the press are also discussed in the consuming

process. From the viewpoint of the product flow, what the press reported and critics

commented on were basically musical products, other participants in different

processes and events occurring around the products. However, due to the lack of

sufficient information about how the press operated in the pop industry and no strong

evidence for the existence of critics, this section focuses on the audience’s listening

habits and the coverage of popular music in the press.

1. Audience

Phrases such as ‘hot in main streets and narrow alleys’ (hongpian dajie

xiaoxiang) and ‘taking the whole country by storm’ (fengmi quanguo) were usually

used to describe the great popularity of Shanghai popular song, this raising the

question of who were listening to these songs. In fact, producers of Chinese popular

song in the early years did not target a specific audience, or rather they probably had

no idea who the audience would be. Li Jinhui created children’s musical dramas only

for primary education. However, he would neither expect that later on these works

could reach more age groups through song-and-dance performances, nor would he

anticipate that his love songs, an unplanned by-product, could draw a mass audience.

Before approaching him to record his love songs, while record companies were sure

that the records would sell well, they were never certain what group of consumers

would buy them. It is generally accepted that the audience of Shanghai popular songs

in the 1930s and 1940s was the so-called ‘petty urbanites’ (xiao shimin).93


165

This term was actually coined by Chinese film critics in the early 1930s in

attempt to identify the community of people to whom leftist films appealed.94 Film

songs in the leftist cinema, which featured progressive and patriotic lyrics written by

leftist intellectuals, were often distinguished from popular songs, and referred to as

mass songs, as a result of the different message they were meant to deliver. However,

these songs also played a part in the development of the newly rising popular music

culture in the 1930s. As Laikwan Pang indicates, ‘the committed [leftist] filmmakers

were highly aware that the popular taste could not be sacrificed in the name of artistic

and ideological excellency.’ Therefore, while politically these film songs were used

as a propaganda tool to express social criticisms by the filmmakers, commercially

they helped to attract those who were fascinated by the audio-visual effects of motion

pictures.95 However, while leftist filmmakers intended to employ songs which took

the same format as ‘popular song’ to convey their political messages and to denounce

bitterly the Western popular music for its association with imperialism and corruption,

they could not locate their audience. As a result, the made-up term ‘petty urbanites’

was adopted by the filmmakers.

Like most conventional labels for social classes, ‘petty urbanites’ was never

precisely defined. Film critics never really explained the composition of ‘petty

urbanites’, but only described them as those who were irritated by the socio-economic

reality and were powerless to strive for a change. The term was nevertheless believed

by most people to include small merchants, various kinds of clerks and secretaries,

high school students, housewives and others of the so-called ‘petit bourgeoisie’, and

also referred to by the leftist intellectuals as a new middle urban class active in

consumption. It seems that the term only denotes those who were more financially

secure, but covers neither those who earned a humble living, such as factory labours,


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rickshaw pullers and dock workers, nor those who were economically better-off, such

as factory owners or managers. However, besides ‘petty urbanites’, ‘non-petty

urbanites’ also listened to popular songs, enthusiastically or passively, and all of them

would be captivated by these songs, sooner or later.

Although the economically underprivileged could not afford a radio, not to

mention a gramophone, they could listen to popular songs whenever they passed by

those loudspeakers in streets or whenever a gramophone record was played next door.

As there were no noise regulations in the 1930s and 1940s, in order to draw people’s

attention shops owners could equip themselves with radios or gramophones and often

turned up the volume as much as possible.96 As a Westerner commented,

Somebody was playing records, all the time, and the tunes were amplified

through loudspeakers of super strength. The Chinese loved noise, went crazy

about it, and Shanghai offered its noises, as it offered everything else a

Chinaman could ask for. It produced a great, grotesquely cacophonous

rhapsody. It was in the department stores and in the open shops, in the

factories and in the workshops.97

Wang Weishang remembers that he went to a shop to listen to popular songs everyday

after school and learned all of them in front of big loudspeakers on street corners.

Wang Tingfu also recalls that his sister had a radio, and therefore he could listen to

the latest songs all the time. There was also a gramophone in the duvet shop beneath

his father’s flat and all the residents in the same building could hear it whenever a

record was played. Even those passive listeners, neighbours who used to pay little

attention to the ‘decadent sounds’, would get used to the tunes and later became true

fans.98


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To most Chinese people in the 1930s, Chinese popular songs were modern as

opposed to traditional operas or story-telling ballads, yet to some well-off Chinese,

newly released Hollywood screen songs or American crooners’ works were more

fashionable. Before the Japanese military took over the whole Shanghai city in 1942,

the latest American films and music were accessible to those who were able to afford

the entertainment in first-class cinemas and top cabarets. American musical products

were usually the focal point in the daily lives of those who made a decent living, kept

up with the fashion and had a penchant for Western innovations. They did not pay

particular attention to Chinese popular songs but came to learn of Chinese songs

through gramophone records played by others or radio programmes delivered from

loudspeakers.99 They did not turn to Chinese songs until the Japanese authorities

imposed a ban on American culture products and thus cut off the supply of American

popular music. Partly because Chinese songs were their only choice, and partly

because more musical elements which they had been used to, such as Western

instrumentation and jazzy-styled arrangements, could be heard in Chinese songs now,

they started taking pleasure in these songs. After the war, although the ban had been

lifted, they found that they enjoyed the jazzy Chinese popular songs as much as

American music. These passive listeners had turned into enthusiastic fans.

Shanghai popular song could be the music for the petty urbanites, but in the

event it embraced a wider range of audience, as described by the phrases ‘hot in main

streets and narrow alleys’ and ‘taking the whole country by storm’. Regardless of

their individual social and economic backgrounds, there are some typical listening

habits shared by most of the audience.


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Fan gatherings

It appears that listeners of popular songs in Shanghai in the 1930s and 1940s

neither organised fan clubs nor held regular fan gatherings as we have today. So far,

no announcements of such activities or reports on related events have been found in

newspapers or magazines. Additionally, no interviewed elderly fans can recall or

have ever heard of any such occasions. Rather than call public meetings, fans usually

spent their leisure time with families or friends to listen to and sing along with the

tunes on radio or gramophone records and talked about updates of pop stars. Homes

of those who owned listening facilities were undoubtedly ideal places for these

occasions. It is noteworthy that in such small gatherings, song lyrics were one of the

most important types of information to share. To most fans, the pleasure of songs

came not only from listening to them but also from singing them. With the help of

those loudspeakers in streets, it was all too easy to become acquainted with the tune,

but due to poor radio reception or limited personal listening comprehension, it was

difficult to understand all the words in lyrics. Therefore, to be able to sing along with

the voice of favourite singers instead of humming the tune, it was always important to

obtain printed lyrics.

There were several approaches to collecting song lyrics. While lyrics of

selected hits and film songs might be found in the press and magazines, for lyrics of

the others one had to look up in the latest songbooks or the song collections published

by radio singing groups. Some fans might buy a newly released songbook for the

sake of the lyrics of only one song which they did not have, despite its other

unnecessary contents.100 There were also copies of sheet music, or sometimes only

lyrics sheets, enclosed in record sleeves. In the late 1930s it was sometimes possible

to ask for a free copy of sheet music of a film song by writing to the film company,


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yet filmgoers in the 1940s had to buy it in the box offices of major cinemas or

newsstands. For example, in 1937 free copies of the sheet music of songs from the

film Singing in the Midnight (Yeban gesheng) and New Year’s Money (Yasuiqian)

were available on request. However, those from Laughter Marriage (Sanxiao) in

1940 and Orioles in Willow Waves (Liulang wenying) in 1948 were sold in cinemas,

and those from Song of the Songstress (Genü zhi ge) in 1948 had to be purchased in

newsstands.101

At dancehalls

It goes without saying that people went to dancehalls to dance, but some pop

fans went there solely to hear live performances. Yao Li believed that the audience

paid more attention to the voice of a singer than her appearance, remembering from

her experience in the Yangzi Dancehall (Yangzi wuting),

I didn’t dress myself up – plaiting my hair into two braids and putting on a

qipao. I didn’t wear make-up at all. [I’m] a simple girl… In those days, all

[of the audience] came to listen to you, with their eyes closed. They would

not look at you.102

Yao Li’s remarks reflect an age-old habit from the Beijing opera theatre. As a

Westerner observed in a theatre, the Chinese audience rarely watched the players but

most of the time listened to dialogue and singing.103 The less they looked at the stage,

the more experienced and knowledgeable with the play they were considered. The

audience did not have to close their eyes all the time to show how well they knew

about a song at a dancehall but they certainly immersed themselves in the singing, so

much so that a live performance could change their impression on a particular song.


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Perhaps because of the feeling of participation and the intimacy and immediacy

conveyed by live performance, which were not available elsewhere, some fans would

buy a record or pay more attention to a song only after they had listened to it in a live

performance, even though the song had been played on radio for a while. Ms Li

remembers that sometimes her family and friends often bought records because they

had watched the performance of songs at the dancehall.104

However, not all songs were equally appreciated by the audience at the

dancehall. Jin Yi indicates that there are two major factors contributing to the

popularity of a song. Firstly, it required no advanced singing skills so that it can be

performed by singers of all levels and secondly, it must be a danceable piece

regardless of tempo or at least easily turned into a piece in dance rhythm. The famous

‘How Could I Forget Her’ (Jiao wo ruhe buxiang ta), which had originally been an art

song but later became a popular tune was once rearranged and sung to a waltz rhythm

at dancehalls. However, it was poorly received by the audience.105 Perhaps dancehall

singers were not competent enough to reinterpret it successfully or perhaps it was not

regarded as danceable despite the waltz rhythm. Obviously, although ‘How Could I

Forget Her’ had long been perceived as a popular song by pop fans, those who went

to dancehalls for live performance still deemed it not suitable for such a location.

In addition to enjoying songs performed live by singers, some of the audience

might attempt to take part in the programme. To those who were fascinated by

popular songs, it was definitely a privilege to sing to a band accompaniment at that

time, which was undoubtedly a wonderfully different experience from singing along

with records or radio programmes. Wang Yixian recalled that at a dancehall in the

early 1940s he once ‘bribed’ a bandleader with a beer to be allowed to sing on the

stage.106


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Going to the cinema

No matter what kind of tone quality the audience could hear through radio and

records, either syrupy, sonorous or husky, all the songs they heard were disembodied

sounds rather than a face-to-face musical experience. People went to dancehalls or

cabarets for this experience, yet even in those establishments, they could not always

see their favourite stars as not all pop stars gave performances in such places. Some

singers would not perform regularly because while, making recordings and singing on

radio were a pleasure to them, singing before an audience in a cabaret could be

associated with ‘selling songs to earn a living’ (maichang) and considered a

disgrace.107 As many popular songs were actually screen songs and originally sung

by the actors in films, going to the cinema was a popular way of accessing popular

songs and singer. Through high-quality speakers, and sometimes comfortably with

air-conditioning, fans were able to listen to the latest songs and watch their favourite

artists at the same time. Some frenetic fans even carried a torch to the cinema, and

then one held the light so that another could write down the lyrics shown on the

screen when the song was played.108 Therefore, going to the cinema was also an

economical way to collect lyrics.

Although some obligatory songs were not relevant to the scenes in films, but

just added as a publicity stunt in order to promote the films, for those who enjoyed

listening to songs and watching the singer on the screen simultaneously, it did not

matter how these songs fitted into the story, but rather how many songs there were in

a film. With the increasing attractiveness of film songs to cinemagoers, directors

were required by producers or distributors to incorporate as many as possible into the

films. For example, there were ten and twelve songs in The Wandering Songstress

(1941) and Orioles Flying on Earth (1946) respectively. It became an irrational fad in


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the late 1940s with fifteen and eighteen obligatory songs especially written for

Celestial Music Sounding Everywhere (Xianyue piaopiao chuchu wen) (1948) and

Orioles in Willow Waves (1948) respectively. Songs produced for Celestial Music

Sounding Everywhere were particularly criticised as bearing nonsensical content

merely to add more musical scenes in the film.109 Nevertheless, the audience kept

flocking to the cinema no matter how unfit those obligatory songs appeared to be for

the films. Some people even went to watch the same film several times just because

they wanted to listen to the songs.

Attending concerts

The audience behaved quite differently at early song-and-dance performances

and at pop concerts in the 1940s because of the form and venue in which

performances were given. In Beijing opera and other regional operatic genres, the

first one or two vocal phrases of an aria were usually followed by a strain of

instrumental fill-ins and conventionally, the audience clapped their hands and roared

‘bravo’ (hao) immediately after the first several phrases when the instrumental fill-ins

started despite the performance still being in progress. In a traditional Chinese

theatre, one would be considered ignorant for failing to give well-timed applause.

This practice was still seen during a song-and-dance performance in the first half of

1930s. As a song-and-dance troupe usually gave their performances either in cinemas

where only Chinese films were screened, or in theatres where Chinese modern stage

plays and traditional operas were presented, the audience were liable to follow the

conventional method of showing their approval of a programme and admiration for

performers. Moreover, since a song-and-dance programme was delivered by a group

of actors and could consist of a connected series of songs and dances, the audience


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were inclined to cheer whenever they felt that one of the performers had completed a

section without making a mistake.

However, the audience in pop concerts in the 1940s preferred to enjoy the

entire song without interruption rather than clapping their hands at every opportune

moment. On the one hand, limited to the available playing time on each side of a 78-

rpm SP record, composers were supposed to write songs not exceeding a time frame

of three minutes. The audience did not find it difficult to concentrate their attention

and energy on listening for those three minutes and therefore to control their emotions

before bursting into heavy applause. On the other hand, perhaps the good manners at

Western concerts had gradually become known to Chinese people, and thus the

audience were aware of the importance of keeping the performance going smoothly.

In fact, going to Western concerts was once a mark of urban superiority and part of

the native elites’ life. Recalling her childhood experience of attending a Western

orchestral concert, the famous writer Eileen Chang wrote in an essay:

When my mother took me to a concert, she would admonish me repeatedly

before we arrived, ‘You must not make a sound or say a word during the

concert. Don’t let them [Westerners] say that Chinese people are

undisciplined.’110

As Chang revealed, keeping silent during the performance was the absolute priority in

a concert, not only because it was good manners but also because it was a matter of

honour. Although Chinese pop concerts were not regarded as serious classical

concerts, when taking place in first-class cinemas where there were usually not only

screens but also huge stages for live performances, an atmosphere of formality and

seriousness could be created. Since Shanghai Municipal Symphony Orchestra used to

give concerts in first-class cinemas, such as Grand Theatre (Daguangming xiyuan),


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Nanking Theatre (Nanjing da xiyuan), Carlton Theatre (Kaerdeng da xiyuan) and

Lyceum Theatre (Lanxin xiyuan), the Chinese audience would also regarded pop

concerts in these establishments as formal and observe ‘good manners’.

Instead of whistling, screaming or waving hands excitedly like the way young

fans today revere their pop idols in live concerts, most audiences in Shanghai in the

1940s showed much gentleness and politeness. Undoubtedly, they might stand up and

give a singer thunderous applause and shout out ‘bravo!’ or ‘encore!’ at the end of the

performance of a song, yet they would never jostle one another to the front of the

stage, cry out words such as ‘I love you’ and try to grasp a singer’s hand. Some

elderly fans indicate that whistling and screaming during the performance in a concert

was considered bad manners at that time and they would remain seated and silent until

the end of a song.111

2. The press

There were always pages or supplements devoted to entertainment in major

newspapers, for example, a page called ‘The Annals’ (Chunqiu) and a weekend

Special Film Supplement (Dianying zhuankan) in The Shun Pao Daily (Shenbao), a

daily column called ‘Art Sea’ (Yihai) in The News (Xinwenbao) and a film page in

The China Evening News (Dawanbao). However, most of these pages were taken up

with Chinese opera and cinema, and there was no space for regular reports on popular

music. What pop fans could expect was only information about titles and singers of

new film songs. For more coverage of popular music, a pop fan had to turn to

tabloids. While some of these tabloids were fully dedicated to specific areas as their

titles reveal, for example, Movie Daily News (Dianying ribao) and Daily Dance


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Review (Tiaowu ribao), others covered both entertainment news and reports on

political and domestic events, such as The Crystal Daily (Jingbao) and The Wind

Daily News (Dafengbao). Unlike major newspapers in which entertainment news was

just embellishment among other hard news, tabloids offered more details about new

released songs and singers, together with interviews and their personal revelation.112

Apart from newspapers, reports on popular music and related issues were also

covered in a range of entertainment magazines. Among these magazines, Pop Star

Pictorial (Gexing huabao), launched in 1935, is perhaps the first and only one

published during the 1930s and 1940s that was exclusively for popular music.

However, in this magazine ‘stars’ referred mainly to those radio singers, and all the

articles and reports solely concerned these singers. There were articles regarding

singers’ performances in programmes and discussion on singing skills. For example,

there was a short note in the maiden issue emphasising the importance of articulation

in singing and instrumental introductions to songs. The pop songwriter Xu Ruhui also

once contributed a commentary on radio singers’ and instrumentalists’ musical

capacity.113 However, no record review or comments on specific songwriters’ works

were available. Therefore, this pictorial was indeed more a periodical for

broadcasters and listeners rather than a popular music magazine.

In addition to Pop Stars Pictorial, information about popular songs, such as

up-to-date record singers’ movements, gossip about singers’ private affairs and

comments on new releases, was scattered in those periodicals dedicated to radio, films

and other types of entertainment. In other words, the audience in 1930s and 1940s

had to obtain news about popular music from other fields of entertainment to which

popular music was closely tied. With the rapid growth of the broadcasting industry

came various magazines for radio listeners, such as China Radio (Zhongguo


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wuxiandian), Shanghai Radio Weekly (Shanghai wuxiandian), Broadcasting Monthly

(Guangbo yuekan) and Broadcasting and Radio (Guangbo wuxiandian). These

provided listeners with a range of information, including timetables and guide to

programmes, knowledge of assembling and repairing radio receivers, comments on

the productions, gossips and anecdotes about singers and their colleagues in music

clubs, and lyrics and song scores. However, the contents often varied from issue to

issue and there was no regular item for popular music. For example, a reader who

found a section devoted to news of singing clubs and their song repertoires in one

issue might find nothing on a similar subject in the next one.

As Shanghai in the first half of the twentieth century saw a wide variety of

entertainment imported from the West, there were also magazines containing all kinds

of updates on urban leisure activities, such as Ciro’s Pictorial (Xianle huabao),

Variety Weekly (Yule zhoubao) and Movietone (Diansheng). These magazines usually

covered cabaret dancing, dog or horseracing, betting on jai alai games, together with

articles on films, broadcasts and traditional Chinese performances. However, as with

radio magazines, there was no regular coverage of popular music.

With the potential of sound film moving away from marginal experimentation

into mainstream in the mid-1930s, more and more members from song-and-dance

troupes who had trained as singers turned to the screen for more opportunities to

further their careers in the entertainment industry. Producers in film companies also

required actors to sing in films regardless of their singing abilities. To the audience,

both former troupe members and newborn film actors were now ‘stars’ who sang on

the screen. To accommodate a fast-growing demand for information about sound

films, not only did ordinary magazine publishers launch a range of film magazines,

but also film companies released their official periodicals, such as Movie Star


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(Mingxing) published by Star Motion Picture, United Pictorials (Lianhua huabao) by

United Photoplay (Lianhua yingye gongsi), Denton Gazette (Diantong zazhi) by

Denton Sound Product (Diantong gongsi) and Hsinhua in Pictures (Xinhua huabao)

by Hsin Hwa Motion Picture (Xinhua yingye gongsi).114 Although the coverage of

‘songs’ was limited in film magazines, information about ‘stars’ could always satisfy

fans’ curiosity. Nevertheless, sometimes ‘serious articles’ could be found in these

magazines, particularly those circulating in the second half of 1930s. Discussions on

composition of screen songs, comments on newly released songs and harsh words on

the poor quality of music in Chinese films all had their place there.115 However, from

1942 when the Japanese took over the whole city of Shanghai up to the end of the

1940s, articles of this kind somehow no longer appeared in film magazines.

EMI’s Pathé Semimonthly is the only magazine that was published by a record

company that has so far been located, but unfortunately only the maiden issue

survives. Unlike magazines issued by film companies which would occasionally

touch on songs and singers in films, there was curiously no coverage of popular

music, either film songs or other popular songs, in Pathé Semimonthly. The first issue

basically focused on Chinese opera and story-telling ballads. Since it is unclear if

more issues were released, it remains unknown whether any pages would be reserved

in the future for popular music, one of the most important product lines of EMI.

Apart from gathering information about musical products and related activities

in the Shanghai pop industry, newspapers and periodicals had organised activities to

gauge the popularity of singers by readers’ response. As there were no sales charts,

airplay charts or request charts produced by any institution in the Shanghai era, these

should have been held frequently and pop fans would have been keen to show their

support to favourite singers. However, only two were held in the mid-1930s. One of


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them had been reported in other printed media and is still remembered by elderly fans

today, the other proved to be a failure and no similar activities were organised

thereafter. Moreover, both events were basically for radio singers, and therefore those

‘singing’ film stars and record singers who did not perform on radio were not

considered.

The China Evening News organised a ‘top three radio singers contest’ in 1934

in which the audience were invited to send in ballots during the two weeks from 26

May to 8 June to vote for their favourite radio singers. The promoter of the contest

made a full-page announcement in the newspaper to encourage the audience to pass

judgement on singers’ natural talents from voice and on singer’s personalities and

upbringing through the contents of songs. The contest was meant to be a survey on

how singers in Shanghai were perceived by the audience. In order to offer the

audience a general picture of the singing circle, brief biographies of some singers,

whom the promoter considered brilliant, together with information about music clubs

to which these singers belonged, were also given on the same page where the contest

announcement was issued and a ballot printed. Readers had to make their decisions

within those two weeks on who was the best radio singer. The newspaper also kept

count of the ballots being received so that the number of votes cast for each singer

could be disclosed on a daily basis during the contest. The contest result was

announced on 14 June and Bai Hong, Zhou Xuan and Wang Manjie won the first

three titles.116

Although the contest was held for radio singers rather than for all pop stars,

which broadly speaking should have included those who had made recordings but had

never sung on radio, this unprecedented and unrepeated contest was unique and the

only successful one for popular music that had been organised by the press. More


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than a year later in September 1935, Pop Star Pictorial announced another ‘ten best

pop stars in Shanghai contest’, in which readers were also requested to send in ballots

ranking their ten pop stars. In order to promote the contest, the publisher had free

copies of the magazine to give away to the first 10,000 voters. A reader commented

in the next issue following the announcement that it was essential to select

distinguished singers in order to save the ‘depraved industry’. The radio singing

circle had previously been a place where high-class entertainment had been promoted

and art for the masses developed, yet due to a plethora of music clubs in Shanghai

composed of incompetent members delivering performances of poor quality, an

unpleasant atmosphere began to fill the circle. Outstanding singers should have been

role models for those who wanted to participate in a radio singing club.117 However,

it seems that this second contest was not successful because Pop Star Pictorial never

announced the result and this event was not reported in any other newspaper or

periodicals.

3. Critics

It is difficult to locate in Shanghai during the 1930s to 1940s popular music

critics who wrote record reviews and commentaries on musical works regularly, as

happens in the press today. On the one hand, since there was no real popular music

press during that period, it is impossible to identify any well-known or authoritative

critic from a respectable popular music magazine. On the other hand, a lack of

regular coverage of popular music in the press also makes it hard to look into how

critics, if there were any, responded to new releases and what they contributed in the

industry. However, skimming through the pages of major newspapers and

periodicals, one can still read comments on singers’ voices, singing techniques and


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specific musical works. Most of these articles were usually published under

pseudonyms which seldom re-appeared in the same magazine or newspaper, or

sometimes anonymously. These comments could either be prepared by editors or

journalists, or contributed by readers in forms of short chatty articles or letters to the

editor.

For instance, in the tabloid The Wind, an anonymous journalist made a

comparison of Yao Li’s ‘Unrequited Love’ (Debudao de aiqin) and Wu Yingyin’s ‘I

Wanna Forget You’ (Wo xiang wangle ni) in a short report, surprisingly without a

headline, and argued that the former did not showed as much sorrowfulness as the

later.118 Words delivered in such way occasionally appeared in almost all magazines

and tabloids. In another short article headlined ‘Rambling on new Chinese film

songs’, published under the pseudonym of Siji in The Shun Pao Daily, the author

examined seven songs and argued that compositional techniques of film song in China

had been considerably improved after the outbreak of Sino-Japanese War. Judging

from the melodies and rhythms of these songs, he indicated that their form and style

was very close to similar works in Euro-American films.119 As neither the name Siji

nor any more articles on related subjects appeared again in this newspaper in the

ensuing months, it is impossible to track whether Siji worked as a critic who

contributed regularly.

To take another example in a magazine, there was a paragraph under a

pseudonym in Cinema Weekly News (Dianying zhoubao) giving a remark on Bai

Guang’s new record. It commented that the grief of a deserted woman could be felt

through Bai Guang’s husky voice in the new song ‘Waiting for You’ (Dengzhe ni

huilai), which indeed surpassed the previous ‘Never Too Late to Come to Know You’

(Xianjian bu hen wan).120 This short piece appears to be a ‘guide to new releases’ in a


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music magazine written by a member of the editorial board, but actually it is not. It is

just a one-off comment made by an ordinary reader in a film magazine. ‘Waiting for

You’ was not a film song and it is because Bai Guang was a famous actress that the

comment was placed in the magazine. Similar to the article in The Shun Bao Daily,

there is no way to evaluate the author’s connection to the industry in this weekly.

Apart from those comments made by unknown readers or short reviews

written by nameless editors, sharp criticisms of popular songs, like those levelled at Li

Jinhui in the first half of 1930s, were never absent during the whole Shanghai era.

Popular songs were denigrated as, for instance, ‘voice of a conquered nation’, ‘part of

urban vice’, and ‘love songs poisoning the minds of youths and juveniles’.121 As

these derogatory criticisms and negative opinion are not specific to individual works

or persons, but rather to a wider range of the whole popular music circle, they should

be regarded more as social commentaries than music reviews. Therefore, those who

expressed their deep aversion to popular songs in articles should not be considered

music critics.

Endnotes

1 The Comacrib Industrial and Commercial Manual (Shanghai: The Commercial &

Credit Information Bureau, 1935), p. 152.

2 Shenbao, 5 July 1930.

3 Zhongguo renmin zhengzhi xieshang huiyi Shanghai shiweihui wenshiziliao

gongzuo weiyuanhui (ed), Jiu Shanghai de waishang yu maiban (Foreign companies

and compradors in old Shanghai) (Shanghai: Remin chubanshe, 1987), p. 284-5.


182

4 To give several examples, North Sea (Beihai) produced Beijing operas and other

traditional music of the North China for audiences in Hebei. Emei recorded Sichuan

operas (chuanju), traditional art songs (qingyin) and folk songs in Shanghai and

shipped them back to Sichuan. Hundreds Songs (Baige) specialised in Shanghai

opera (huju) and Yue opera (yueju) which served mainly the audience in Shanghai

and neighbouring area. Unistar (Lianxing) and Conscience (Liangxin) recorded

regional operas and traditional music of Fujian and both had their market in Fuzhou

and Xiamen. Great Wall (Changcheng) made its name by signing up prominent

performers of Beijing opera. Other companies, such as Asia (Yazhou), Harmony

(Hesheng), Enlightenment (Kaiming), Pacific (Taiping), National Music (Guoyue),

Wakening Lion (Xingshi) and Kunlun, also operated in a similar way. Among all

these pocketbook companies, New Moon Records (Xinyue liushengji changpian

gongsi), a Hong Kong-based company, is worthy of special notice. It released

primarily Cantonese opera and traditional Chinese operatic arias, together with a

hybrid genre that incorporated Cantonese folk melodies with Western instruments

such as the saxophone and guitar. For a detailed discussion on New Moon’s role in

the promotion of indigenous Chinese record industry, refer to Jones, Yellow Music, pp.

65-68.

5 North-China Hong List (Shanghai: North-China Daily News & Herald Ltd., 1930),

p.227.

6 See Qin Qiming (ed.), Yinyuejia Ren Guang (The musician Ren Guang) (Anhui,

China: Anhui wenyi chubanshe, 1988), p. 44.


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7 For example, Xu Ruhui, one of Li Jinhui’s contemporaries, was engaged as a

contracted composer in Star Motion Pictures (Mingxing yingpian gongsi) in 1931 and

became a full-time employee the following year.

8 Zhu Zhonghua remembered that during 1942-45 when she worked in Pathé,

composers Li Jinguang, Li Houxiang and Yan Zhexi usually came to their office in

the morning and then worked there all day. Yao Li, who made her recording debut in

1937 for EMI, also remembered that composers went to the office everyday, like

nine-to-fivers, and wrote songs there. Personal interview with Zhu Zhonghua, former

employee of EMI (China), Shanghai, 10 February 2004; Wong Kee-Chee, The Age of

Shanghainese Pops: 1930-1970 (Hong Kong: Joint Publishing, 2001), p. 42.

9 Personal interview with Wu Yingyin, Shanghai pop singer, Shanghai, 31 December

2003.

10 ‘Baidai gongsi banshui Zhou Xuan gaoju diyiwei’ (Zhou Xuan in the first place of

royalties income in Pathé), Yihai huabao, 5 (October 1948), p. 3. All figures above

are cited from Dangdai Zhongguo de guangbo Dianshi Bianjibu (ed.), Zhongguo de

changpian chubanshiye (The record industry of China) (Beijing: Beijing guangbo

xueyuan chubanshe, 1989), p. 14, except those of the 1940s from a personal interview

with Zhang Fan, Shanghai pop singer, Beijin, 31 January 2004.

11 Saito Kyouharu, Nie Er: shanliang de shengya (Nie Er: a splendid life), trans.

Zhuang Li (Shanghai: Shanghai yinyue chubanshe, 2003), pp. 185, 197.

12 Dangdai Zhongguo de guangbo dianshi bianjibu (ed.), Zhongguo de changpian

chubanshiye, pp. 2-4; Jones, Yellow Music, p. 165.

13 Personal interview with Zhu Zhonghua.


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14 See Mingxing banyuekan, 1:3 (May 1935), n.p.; Yisheng, 1:4 (September 1935),

n.p.; Diansheng, 3:22 (June 1934), n.p.; Liangyou huabao, 88 (May 1934), p. 38.

15 Dangdai Zhongguo de guangbo dianshi bianjibu (ed.), Zhongguo De Changpian

Chubanshiye, p. 15.

16 Tan Yi , ‘Chuchuang chenlie: zui wei youxiao zhi guanggao’ (Window exhibition:

the most effective advertising), Baidai banyuekan, 1:1 (July 1937), 19-20

17 Shenbao, 1 June 1934.

18 Shenbao, 29 December 1934.

19 ‘Baidai gongsi jiang juxing mingxing gechang dahui (Pathé to hold a star concert)’,

Dianying ribao, 13 and 14 March 1941.

20 Shanghaishi dangan guan, Beijing guangbo xueyuan and Shanghaishi guangbo

dianshi ju (eds), Jiu zhongguo de Shanghai guangbo shiye (The broadcasting industry

of Shanghai in old China) (Beijing: Guangbo dianshi chubanshe, 1985), p. 211.

21 See ‘Xiren changpianshang xianzhi bosong changpian: guangbo diantai dashou

daji’ (Western record companies place restrictions on airplay: radio stations under

vehement attacks), Diansheng, 4:27 (July 1935), 563; ‘Ge diantai xubo waishang

changpian’ (Radio stations resume the broadcasting of records of foreign companies),

Diansheng, 4:30 (July 1935), p. 628.

22 ‘Chanpianshang yu diantai jiufen guangbo diantai zhangao shengli’ (Radio stations

take the upper hand on the argument between record companies and radio stations for

the time being), Diansheng , 4:31 (August 1935), p. 648; Shenbao, 21 December 1935.


185

23 Chen Dieyin indicated in an interview that he was so moved and inspired by Li

Juanqing’s lyrics for ‘Steadfast Affection’ (Bubian de xin), composed by Chen Gexin

and sung by Zhou Xuan in 1944, that he decided to give up his journalism career and

started writing lyrics for popular songs. For more details of the interview, see

Shuijing, Liuxing gequ cangsang ji, pp. 132-156.

24 ‘Paired Phoenix’ is a song sung by Zhouxuan in the same-name film Paired

Phoenix. For more of Chen Dieyi’s comments on Chen Gexing, see Chen Gang (ed.),

Meigui meigui wo ai ni: gexian Chen Gexin zhi ge (Rose, rose I love you: songs of the

immortal Chen Gexin) (Taipei: Vista Publishing, 2003), pp. 15-8.

25 Interview clip shown in Yibai nian de gesheng (official English title: The Last

Century Pop Music of China), a four-series documentary first broadcast on Channel

10, China Central Television, 22~25 January 2004.

26 Personal interview with Jin Yi, Shanghai pop singer, Shanghai, 7 January 2004;

Zhang Fan.

27 ‘Yangqingui koushu: Tino’ (Foreigner instrumentalists’ own words: Tino), Tiaowu

ribao, 11 March 1941.

28 ‘Yangqingui koushu: Mick Korin’ (Foreigner instrumentalists’ own words: Mick

Korin), Tiaowu ribao, 10 March 1941.

29 Personal interview with Zheng Deren, former dancehall instrumentalist and

currently bassist in Shanghai Symphony Orchestra, Shanghai, 29 December 2003;

personal interview with Zhu Zhonghua.

30 Personal interview with Wu Yingyin, Jin Yi and Zhang Fan.


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31 Interview with Li Jinguang by Shuijing. See Shuijing, ‘Li Jinguang tan liuxing

laoge’ (Li Jinguang on old popular song), Lianhebao, 22-23 December 1988.

Avshalomov had spent thirty years in China before he moved and settled down in

America in 1947. Nevertheless, he actually earned his living as a bookseller, and later

a librarian, during his years in China, first in Beijing and Tianjin, and finally in

Shanghai where for fifteen years he was the head librarian in the Shanghai Municipal

Library. For more biographical details and musical works of Avshalomov, see Jacob

& Aaron Avshalomov, Avashalomov’s Winding Way: Composers Out of China – A

Chronical (Philadelphia: Xlibris Corporation, 2001). However, interestingly, nothing

about his arrangements for popular songs was mentioned in this book.

32 Personal interview with Zhao Jiying, former leader of Great China New Music

Band (Dahua xin yinyuedui) in Cosmo Dancehall (Gaoshiman wuting), Shanghai, 29

December 2003.

33 Shuijing, Liuxing gequ cangsang ji (A record of the vicissitudes of popular song)

(Taipei: Dadi chubanshe, 1985), pp. 166-7.

34 Personal interview with Wu Yingyin and Jin Yi; Ji, ‘Fang bielai wuyang de Bai

Guang’ (Interview: Bai Guang back and well), Xin yingtan 3:2 (1944), 28. Bai Guang

learnt singing from Miura Tamaki (1884-1946), the first Japanese-born vocalist to

have a successful international career, whom the Italian composer Puccini praised as

the most ideal person in the world for the prima donna in his Madam Butterfly.

35 Personal interview with Wu Yingyin, Zhang Fan and Jin Yi.

36 Personal interview with Zhang Fan; Yan Fei, Tianjin, 5 February 2004; Shuhua,

‘Mingxing lu nanxing baowei Zhou Xuan Bai Hong’ (Difficult pass – Zhou Xuan and


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Bai Hong surrounded), Dianying ribao, 15 May 1941; Bai Guang, ‘Bai Guang riji’

(The diary of Bai Guang), Yingmi julebu, 2 (October 1948), p. 15.

37 There were also at this time musical periodicals and other publications in which

academic musicians, serious composers or those who felt disdain for ‘love songs’ in

Li’s style had published vocal works. However, those songs were mainly patriotic

songs, revolutionary songs, experimental compositions and art songs with

accompaniments for piano. As most of them were usually circulated within a limited

circle or had no connexion to the entertainment industry, they are beyond the scope of

the study of the Shanghai popular music industry and thus not included in the

category of printed popular music discussed here.

38 Zhengxie Hunansheng Xiangtanshi weiyuanhui wenshi ziliao yanjiu weiyuanhui

and Hunan Xiangtan Li Jinhui yishuguan , Li Jinhui (Li Jinhui) (Hunan, China, 1994),

pp. 242-3. A system of music notation known as the simplified notation, which was

adapted from a French system of teaching sight-singing, the Galin-Paris-Chevé

method, and was introduced to China in the late nineteenth or early twentieth century.

Despite considerable opposition from professional musicians and musical educators,

the simplified notation, which features a notation of numerals from 1 to 7 representing

the seven sol-fa syllables respectively, had been taught in schools and widely

employed in various songbooks. A rest is shown as 0 in this system, yet 8 is not used.

For details about the usage, see Stanley Sadie (ed.), The New Grove Dictionary of

Music and Musicians, Vol. 4 (London : Macmillan, 1980), pp. 99-100.

39 Xu Wenxia, ‘Wode fuqin Xu Ruhui yu Zhongguo zaoqi liuxing gequ’ (My father

Xu Ruhui and Chinese early popular songs), Musicology in China, 1 (2001), pp. 66-7.


188

40 See the preface in Chen Yike (ed), Dianying mingge ji (A collection of famous film

songs) (Shanghai: Xiandai yinyue yanjiushe, 1943), n.p.

41 See the postscript in Hu Zhimei (ed.), Gepu di er ji (Songbook, issue 2) (Shanghai:

Anding bieshu guangbo diantai, 1934), n.p. Since only the second issue has so far

been found among the collection in the Shanghai Municipal Library, it is not clear

how many issues the radio station had released and if those songbooks were available

on request or had to be purchased.

42 Yin Mengxing (ed), Dianying mingge yiqian qu (1000 famous film songs)

(Shanghai: Xingguang gewu yanjiushe, 1934); Madame Yingying (ed), Dianying

mingge wubai qu (500 famous film songs) (Shanghai: Xingguang gewu yanjiushe,

1935); Mingxing she (eds), Dianying mingge ji (A collection of famous film songs)

(Shanghai: Dongfang shuju, 1939).

43 For more details about the Law of Publication in the Republican China, see The

Nanking Government’s Laws and Regulations Vol. VI (Shanghai: British Chamber of

Commerce, 1931).

44 These music shops played an important part in the trade of Western instruments not

only in Shanghai but also in the whole of China in the first half of the Twentieth

century. See Shanghai wenhua yishu zhi biazuan weiwenhui Shanghai yiyue zhi

bianjibu (eds), Shanghai yinyue zhi (Shanghai music chronicle) (Shanghai, 2001), pp.

317-9.

45 Before major record companies built factories and studios in Shanghai in the 1920s

master recordings of Chinese music were transferred abroad to their headquarters

overseas, made into records there, and finally shipped back to China.


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46 Shanghai Hong List (Shanghai: The Investigation Bureau of Commerce and

Industry, 1939 and 1940). Nevertheless, it is not clear if this shop sold both Chinese

and Western popular music, or only specialised in Western recordings.

47 The organisation structure differed from company to company. While there was a

specific order department within EMI (China) responsible for wholesale business of

all their products, as opposed to its retail branch which was in charge of the

showroom, in RCA-Victor record sales was subordinate specifically to the record

department which dealt with both recording and selling activities. See Shanghai

Directory (Shanghai: North-China Daily News & Herald Ltd., 1941), pp. 123, 320;

Dangdai Zhongguo de guangbo dianshi bianjibu (ed.), Zhongguo de changpian

chubanshiye (The record industry of China) (Beijing: Beijing guangbo xueyuan

chubanshe, 1989), p. 14.

48 Advertisements of the Civilisation Book Bureau in Shenbao, 10 August 1932 and

the Central Book Store on the back cover of Dianying gushi, 1 (September 1948).

49 For more details about how the four department stores developed and thus

established a new commercial culture, see Wellington K. K. Chan, ‘Selling goods and

promoting a new commercial culture: the four premier department stores on Nanjing

Road, 1917-1937’, in Sherman Cochran (ed.), Inventing Nanjing Road: Commercial

Culture in Shanghai, 1900-1945 (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell East Asia Series, 1999), pp.

19-36.

50 As advertised in Shenbao, 19 October 1934.

51 There were 256 films produced in China during 1932 to 1934, yet only thirty

percent of them were sound films. See Li Suyuan and Hu Jubin, Zhongguo wusheng


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dianying shi (A history of Chinese silent films) (Beijing: Zhongguo dianying


52 For example, Lianhua’s three classic films produced in 1934, The Fisherman’s

Song, Great Road (Dalu) and New Women (Xin nüxing), are all ‘sound films’ with

songs but without dialogue or other miscellaneous sounds. See Cheng Jihua, Li

Shaobai and Xing Zuwen, Zhongguo dianying fazhan shi, diyijuan (A history of the

development of Chinese film, vol. 1) (Beijing: Zhongguo dianying chubanshe, 1981),

pp. 604-14.

53 Chen Yiping, Zhongguo zaoqi dianying gequ jingxuan (Selections of songs from

Chinese early films) (Beijing: Zhongguo dianying chubashe, 2000), p. 6; Wang

Wenho, Zhongguo dianying yiyue xunzong (Tracing Chinese film music) (Beijing:

Zhongguo guangbo dianshi chubanshe, 1985), p. 90.

54 For example, upon its reorganisation in 1936 the Star Motion Picture set up a music

division responsible not only for the arrangement of film music but also for voice

training. To cater for the potential need of song-and-dance performers in future

productions, Hsin Hwa Motion Picture (Xinhua yingye gongsi) also founded a song-

and-dance training unit and recruited twenty girls from nearly a thousands applicants.

See ‘Mingxing yingpian gongsi gexin xuanyan’ (Declaration of the reformation of

Star Motion Picture), Jingbao, 20 July 1936; ‘Xinhua gongsi sheli gewu zu’ (Hsin

Hwa Motion Picture set up song-and-dance unit) Xinhua huabao, 4:1 (April 1939),

n.p.


191

55 The film was released on 24 July 1937. The film company started a series of

advertisements in The Shun Pao Daily on 18 July and announced the release of the

record on 21 July. See Shenbao, 18-24 July 1937.

56 Shenbao, 22 March 1935.

57 Shenbao, 5 October 1934. The song was composed by the leftist Ren Guang and its

lyrics written by An E.

58 In addition to relevant information about the songs, a line of words ‘Musical

Director: Ren Guang’ was printed in the bottom centre of the whole column. See

Liangyou, 98 (November 1934), back cover.

59 Du Jie’s piece in the film was ‘The Cherished Memory of Autumn’ (Qiu de

huainian). It was reinterpreted by Yao Li on the gramophone record, and the other

side of that record was Yao Li’s own ‘Rose, rose, I Love You’ (Meigui meigui wo ai

ni). See ‘Tianya genü jingcai’ (The brilliant Wandering Songstress), Dianying ribao,

18 October 1940; ‘Zhou Xuan zhi Tianya genü chaqu Baidai gongsi guanwei

changpian’ (Pathé Records made recordings for Zhou Xuan’s film songs in The

Wandering Songstress), Dazhong yingxun, 30 (February 1941). The film The

Wandering Songstress has nothing to do with the song ‘The Wandering Songstress’

from the film Street Angel.

60 Liner notes to Zhongguo Shanghai sansishi niandai jueban mingqu si (Deleted 30-

40s hits of Shanghai China, vol. 4), 2002, Lee Leng Kok, LLK-11042002. The other

unreleased song of this film is ‘Ideal Lover’ (Lixiang de qingren). The reason why it

was not released remains unclear.


192

61 For example, Li Jinhui’s ‘Drizzles’, composed in 1927, was later recorded by Pathé

Orient around 1932 by when Ren Guang had become the musical director in the

company.

62 Shen’ao, ‘Xin nüxing haile baidai’ (New Women harmed Pathé), Jingbao, 15 May

1935.

63 According to listening guides in radio magazines, there were 27 stations in

November 1938, more than a year after the outbreak of the Sino-Japanese War and

there were 28 in April 1941, eight months before the Japanese took over the whole

city. In May 1946, nearly a year after the end of war, the number decreased sharply to

19. However, in April 1949, before the advent of Communist regime, 33 stations

were operating again in Shanghai. See supplemented listening guides in Zhongguo

wuxian dian, 6:11 (November 1938) and 9:4 (April 1941); Guangbo yuekan, 1 (May

1946), Boyin tiandi, 5 (April 1949).

64 In a listening guide, it was not unusual to see the schedule of a station composed of

only record-playing programmes.

65 See Pu Canxiu, ‘Qiwen gongshang’ (Marvellous writings to be read), Shanghai

wuxiandian, 13 (July 1938), n.p.

66 Ibid.

67 ‘Zhenggao boyin diantai’ (Admonishment to radio stations), Shenbao, 5 June 1940.

68 Pu, ‘Shouyin zayi’ (Miscellaneous memories of radio), Shanghai wuxiandian, 12,

(June 1938), n.p.

69 Ibid.


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70 ‘Meikuangyuxia de boyin tuanti’ (Broadcasting groups get worse every time), Yule

zhoubao, 2:20 (May 1936), p. 389; Labor Statistics in Shanghai, 1930-1937

(Shanghai: International Labor Office, China Branch, 1938), p. 16.

71 As the number of music clubs on radio was calculated based on broadcasting

timetables in magazines, the actual figures can be slightly higher due to the

incompleteness of programme information at the time of going to print. See

Zhongguo wuxiandian, 1:5 (March 1933) and 2:13 (July 1934); ‘Quanshi geyongjie

boyin jiemubiao’ (A timetable of singing clubs in the city), Gexing huabao, 2

(September 1935), p. 16.

72 See ‘Meikuangyuxia de boyin tuanti’, Yule zhoubao, 2:20 (May 1936), p. 389;

Hongcao, ‘Sui shi xia oshiqing ye shi da wenti’ (A trifle can be an issue), Gexing

huabao, 4 (March 1935), p. 9.

73 According to a supplementary listening guide in China Radio in 1938, the Great

Unity Club had five programmes a day in five different stations at 1:45-2:30, 3:30-

4:10, 5:20-6:00, 7:20-8:00 and 8:40-9:20, which showed their typically tight daily

schedule as well as popularity among the audience. See Zhongguo wuxian dian, 6:11

(November 1938).

74 Personal interview with Wei Jun, former pianist of a radio singing club, Shanghai,

20 February 2004.

75 Along with singers’ pictures in these periodical songbooks usually came details

about photographers who took the pictures and studios they belonged to as a sort of

advertising for them. For example, in an issue of Collection of New Song of the Great

Unity Club (Datong xinge xuan) published by the Great Unity Club, Yao Li’s portrait


194

was placed in an advert run by Great Central Plains Shoe Shop (Dazhongyuan pixie)

with her endorsement – ‘I love wearing Dazhongyuan shoes’. See Datong xinge xuan

(Collection of New Song of the Great Unity Club), 2 (no date).

76 Andrew D. Field, ‘Selling souls in sin city: Shanghai singing and dancing hostess in

prints, films, and politics, 1920-49,’ in Yingjin Zhang (ed.), Cinema and Urban

Culture in Shanghai, 1922-1943 (Stanford, Cali.: Stanford University Press, 1999), p.

107. By 1936, there were over three hundred cabarets and dancehalls of various sizes

and styles operating in this metropolis. The guidebook All About Shanghai, published

in 1934/1935, classifies cabarets in Shanghai into three groups – high class, low class

and no class, and indicates that customers brought their own partners to the first one

or danced with hostesses by paying moderate fees in the second. See Frederic E

Wakeman, Policing Shanghai, 1927-1937 (Berkeley : University of California Press,

1995), p. 108; All About Shanghai and Environs: A Standard Guide Book (Shanghai:

University Press, 1934/1935; repr. with an introduction by H. J. Lethbridge, Hong

Kong: Oxford University Press, 1983), p. 75.

77 Zheng Deren maintains that the first genuine Chinese jazz band was organised by

Yu Yuezhang in 1935. Yu graduated from the Tokyo College of Music in 1926 and

was then appointed as music professor in the Xiamen University and later became

Head of the Department of Music at the Shanghai School of Fine Arts. Turning to the

entertainment industry in the hope of earning a decent salary, he managed to lead a

band of nine instrumentalists to perform in a ‘third-class’ Old Great China Dancehall

(Laodahua wuting) owned by a Japanese in Hongkew, the Japanese residential area in

Shanghai. However, as Zheng is not certain about the band’s repertoire and what kind

of customers they mainly catered for, it remains to be seen whether Yu was one of


195

those pioneers who helped in the dissemination of Chinese pops at dancehalls.

Personal interview with Zheng Deren.

78 Zhengxie Hunansheng Xiangtanshi weiyuanhui wenshi ziliao yanjiu weiyuanhui, Li

Jinhui, pp. 239-40.

79 Personal interview with Zheng Deren.

80 Advertisement, Shenbao, 5 April 1939.

81 There is no literature about how the Japanese military dealt with American jazz and

swept it from Shanghai during their control of the city. However, for more details

about the Japanese authorities’ attitude toward jazz during the Pacific Ocean War, see

E. Taylor Atkins, ‘The war on jazz, or jazz goes to war: toward a new cultural order in

wartime Japan’, Positions, 6:2 (1998), 345-92. For Paramount’s advertisement, refer

to 3 January 1942; Yan Gefan’s band to ‘Zhiyi dayuedui fengtou jian’ (The

Appreciation Band makes a showy display), Tiaowu ribao, 19 March 1942.

82 ‘Zai tiaowuting: shenghuo huaxiang’ (At a dancehall: a portrayal of daily life),

Dawanbao, 13 December 1940.

83 For Bai Guang’s concert, refer to the advertisement in Shenbao, 5 and 7 May 1945;

Zhou Xuan’s to Shenbao, 28 March 1945; Chen Gexin’s to Shenbao, 25-30 June 1945.

84 Although advertisements for the four sisters’ live performance could be seen in

newspapers on and off from 1944 to 1946, Zhang Fan indicated that they had neither

connexion to the business nor were they contracted singers at the café, but were

occasionally invited to give live performances. Personal interview with Zhang Fan.


196

85 Shenbao, 2 March 1946. Unfortunately, except the presumed connexion between

its name and the Regal (Lige), Pathé’s sub-label which released mainly recordings of

new or less popular singers, no trace of this orchestra has been left.

86 ‘Zhengli guangbo jiemu zhi banfa’ (Procedures for regulating broadcast

programmes), Yule zhoubao 2:27 (July 1935), p. 531.

87 Shanghai zujie zhi bianzuan weiyuanhui (eds), Shanghai zujie zhi (A chronicle of

Concessions in Shanghai) (Shanghai: Shanghai shehui kexue yuan chubanshe, 2001),

pp. 544-5.

88 Shanghaishi dang’anguan (eds.), Riwei Shanghai shizhengfu (Japanese puppet

Shanghai city government) (Beijing: Dangan chubanshe, 1986), p. 1083.

89 Yuan Jian, ‘Cong Lipai yinyue shuo dao shidaiqu’ (From Li’s music to songs of the

time), Xinyinyue yuekan, 1:4 (August 1946), p. 23; Jin Shan, ‘Tantan gechang’ (A few

words on singing), Dawanbao, 22 April 1948.

90 Shanghaishi dangan guan, Beijing guangbo xueyuan and Shanghaishi guangbo

dianshi ju (eds), Jiu Zhongguo de Shanghai guangbo shiye (The broadcasting industry

of Shanghai in old China) (Beijing: Guangbo dianshi chubanshe, 1985), p. 634.

91 Shanghai zujie zhi bianzuan weiyuanhui (eds), Shanghai zujie zhi (A chronicle of

concessions in Shanghai) (Shanghai: Shanghai shehui kexue yuan chubanshe, 2001),

pp. 521-2.

92 Shanghai shi danganguan (eds), Riwei Shanghai shizhengfu (Japanese puppet

Shanghai city government) (Beijing: Dangan chubanshe, 1986), pp. 994-1002.

93 As Shuijing maintained, ‘popular songs belong to the class of petty urbanites.’

Chen Gang also suggests that these Shanghai popular songs are the music for petty


197

urbanites. See Shuijing, Liuxing gequ cangsang ji (A record of the vicissitudes of

popular song) (Taipei: Dadi chubanshe, 1985), p. 7; Chen Gang (ed.), Shagnhai laoge

mingdian (A compilation of the legendary Shanghai old songs) (Taipei: Yuanjing


94 See Mau-Sang Ng, ‘Popular fiction and the culture of everyday life: a cultural

analysis of Qin Shouou’s Qiuhaitang’, Modern China, 20:2 (1994), p. 154.

95 Laikwan Pang, Building Up a New China in Cinema: the Chinese Left-Wing

Cinema Movement, 1932-1937 (Lanham, Maryland: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers,

2002), pp. 142, 214-16.

96 An article in The Crystal proposed that the authorities should restrict broadcasting

after midnight so that the citizens might sleep well. Coincidently, later on, the police

in the French Concession did enact a rule that any owner of a Chinese shop who

switched on a radio after half past ten in the evening and disturbed the neighbourhood

would be fined two dollars. However, this regulation did not last long. See Fangfei,

‘Shier dianzhong yihou buzhun boyin’ (No broadcasting after 12 o’clock), Jingbao, 6

July 1933; ‘Fazujie kaiting shouyinji zhe zhuyi’ (Beware, radio listeners in the French

Concession), Diansheng ribao, 16 August 1933.

97 Ernest O. Hauser, Shanghai: City For Sale (Shanghai: The Chinese-American

Publishing Company, 1940), p.242.

98 Personal interview with Wang Weishan, elderly fan, Shanghai, 13 March 2004;

Wang Tingfu, Shanghai, 15 March 2004.

99 Personal interview with Zhang Yunsong, elderly fan, Shanghai, 15 March 2004.

100 Personal interview with Shen Fugen, elderly fan, Shanghai 11 February 2004.


198

101 Shenbao, 7 and 28 February 1937; 8 June 1940; 28 September and 12 Dec 1948;

102 Excerpt from an interview conducted by Sjuijing, 8 September 1983. See Shuijing,

Liuxing Gequ Cangsang Ji (A record of the vicissitudes of popular song) (Taipei:

Dadi chubanshe, 1985), p. 205. Yao Li performed regularly in Yangzi Dancehall

from 1942 to 1946.

103 L. Z. Yuan, Sidelights on Shanghai (Shanghai: The Mercury Press, 1934), p. 31

104 Personal interview with Ms Li, elderly fan, Shanghai, 21 February 2004.

105 Personal interview with Jin Yi. The art song here refers to one that was originally

written for vocal and piano in the format similar to the so-called Kunstlied by

conservatoire-trained composers. This song was composed by Chao Yuen-ren in

1926, and Jin Yin learnt of the rearranged dancehall version in the mid-1940s.

106 Personal interview with Wang Yixian, elderly fan, Shanghai, 1 March 2004.

107 Personal interview with Zhang Fan.

108 Interview clip shown in Yibai nian de gesheng.

109 See ‘Dianying gequ ci nanxie’ (It’s difficult to write lyrics for film song),

Dianying zhoubao, 16 (October 1948), n.p.; ‘Liulang wenying kao qu qu nanyang’

(Orioles in Willow Waves exported to Southeast Asia for its songs), Dianying huaju,

11 (August 1948), n.p.

110 Eileen Chang, ‘Tan yinyue’ (On music) in Eileen Chang, Liuyan (Written on water)

(Taipei: Huangguan chubanshe, 1991), p. 215.

111 Personal interview with Peng Guokuan, elderly fan, Shanghai, 13 March 2004.


199

112 For detailed study on tabloids in old Shanghai, refer to Yang Jiayou, ‘Bange shiji

de Shanghai xiaobao’ (Shanghai tabloids during the half century), Dang’an chunqiu,

3 (2002), 41-7; Zhu Junzhou, ‘Shanghai xiaobao de lishi yange’ (A history of

Shanghai tabloids), Xinwen janjiu ziliao, 42 (1988), pp. 137-53.

113 See Dapangzi, ‘Xiangei geyongjie’ (For the singing circle), Gexing huabao, 1

(August 1935), p. 17; Xu Ruhui, ‘Ge xiandai yuejia ji gechangjia’ (For contemporary

musicians and vocalists), Gexing huabao, 4 (December 1935), p. 8.

114 The first film magazine published in China was ‘Film Magazine’ (Yingsi zazhi),

which was launched as early as April 1921 with a special announcement in the two

leading Chinese newspaper in Shanghai, The Shun Pao Daily (Shenbao) and The

News (Xinwenbao) on 1 April 1921.

115 For example, Liu Xue’an,‘You “Chuzheng ge” shoudao yingqu de gailiang’ (From

“The Song of Campaign”: words on making better film songs), Dianying wenhua, 1

(October 1935), n.p.; He Luting, ‘Zuo gequ de jijian chubu zhishi’(Several facts of

songwriting at the primary stage), Diantong, 10 (October 1935), n.p.; Bai Jian,

‘Dianying zhong de duibai, gechang yu yinyue’ (Dialogue, singing and music in

films), Lianhua huabao 6:10 (November 1935), n.p.

116 ‘Sanda boyin gexing jingxuan de yiyi’ (The significance of top three radio singers

contest), Dawanbao, 26 May 1934; ‘Sanda boying gesing jingxuan da jiexiao’ (The

result of three radio singers contest), Dawanbao, 14 June 1934.

117 See ‘Haishang shida gexing xuanju’ (Ten best pop stars in Shanghai contest),

Gexing huabao, 2 (September 1935), n.p.; Xu Weigong, ‘Xiezai haishang shida

gexing xuanju shi: yong shemo biaozhun lai xuanju women weilai de gexing?’ (At the


200

time of ten best pop stars in Shanghai contest: what is the criteria for selecting our

future singers?), Gexing huabao, 3 (October 1935), p. 11.

118 The Wind, 8 April 1949.

119 Siji, ‘Zhongguo dianying xinge zatan’ (Rambling on new Chinese film songs),

Shengbao, 22 December 1938. Interestingly, ‘Siji’ is the last two characters in the

Chinese transliteration of the name of Russian musician Tchaikovsky.

120 Yapo, ‘Bai Guang shi zheyang yiuyu de’ (So melancholic is Bai Guang), Dianying

zhoubao 3 (31 July 1948), n.p.

121 For examples see ‘Duiyu gequ ciju de yijian’ (Opinions about lyrics of songs),

Shenbao, 4 April 1940; Yupian, ‘Yongsu de dushi yiyue’ (The vulgar urban music),

Xinyiyue yuekan (Huananban), 1:2 (May 1946), p. 30; Chenshu, ‘Xiugai liuxing gequ

geci de jianyi’ (Suggestions concerning the revision of lyrics in popular songs),

Shenbao, 16 February 1940.

201

Chapter Five

The Products

The analysis based on Franco Fabbri’s ‘formal and technical rules’ and

‘semiotic rules’ in the introductory chapter has given a general view of the

components of Shanghai popular song. It clearly reveals that both Chinese and

Western musical elements were direct materials used in the Shanghai pop industry.

The unique social and political background of Shanghai made available a diversity of

raw materials for production, which in turn contributed to the coexistence of Chinese

and Western characteristics in the finished goods. How does a piece of music

conveys an impression of certain nationality or strike its audience with certain generic

flavour? In the case of Shanghai popular song, while one of the most recognisable

features that makes a song non-Chinese would probably be the jazzy instrumental

accompaniment, the Chinese language in lyrics would noticeably make it Chinese.

Nevertheless, apart from the phonetic sounds of Chinese, what else in those songs

could be regarded Chinese? This chapter first considers how people sense national or

ethnic characteristics in music, then introduces several key ethnic features of Chinese

traditional music, and lastly examines the products of the Shanghai pop industry.

Finally it will be revealed that the Shanghai pop repertoire reflected a collective style,

in which while Western musical factors played an important part, there was always

room for Chinese elements.

Chapter Five The Products

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I. Ethnicity in music

Studies have shown that music can be used to construct national identity and

can help to maintain ethnic identity. John Baily demonstrates that music has served

as an agent for creating a national identity in modern Afghanistan, a country

constituted by a complex mix of ethnic groups.1 Zdzislaw Mach indicates that even

though the piano composer Chopin’s compositions have few direct references to real

Polish folk music but are usually considered cosmopolitan, international and self-

emotive by many foreigners, his piano works are still revered as part of Polish

national identity.2 Ray Allen and Nancy Groce suggest that immigration groups in

New York usually hold on firmly to traditional music from their motherlands in order

to maintain group identity in a multiethnic society.3 Although there are certainly

socio-political factors involved in the construction of national identity or the

maintenance of ethnic identity, there must also be some distinctive music features

which can be perceived as the mark of nationality or ethnicity by Afghans, Poles or

immigrants in New York. Rather than approaching the issue from a social-political

viewpoint, this section is intended to discuss ethnicity in music by exploring how

musical characteristics can be recognised and associated with a nation or an ethnic

group by listeners.

On the assumption that the repertoire of certain geographical or cultural

origins always bears its specific musical characteristics, how would listeners of the

same origin, or from other backgrounds, notice them? In other words, how would a

person associate music with a nation, a culture or an ethnic group? It is human nature

to make comparisons among things and then assign things to a specific class or group.

By observing and learning, people develop rules of categorising things throughout life.

These rules can either be as complicated, systematic and well accepted as the science


203

of taxonomy, or as subjective, arbitrary and illogical as, for instance, the classification

of personal record collections. Whatever rules are applied, whether objective or

subjective, when assigning one thing to a specific category, we try to match one or

several identifiable features of that thing with those of the category into which it is to

fall according to our own judgment. The activity of labelling something as a

particular thing raises two issues: one is how the criteria are developed and the other

how its quality is perceived. When it comes to music, the former involves how a

listener gets to know that certain musical features are unique to or can be found in the

music created by a specific group of people, and in the latter whether a listener, with

the established rules in mind, can feel and recognise a musical feature.

The knowledge of formal, stylistic features of music may be acquired in many

different ways, such as attending courses, carrying out scientific analyses, listening to

commentaries on radio, growing up in an environment with the music or learning

from a personal listening experience. While some people may be able to give a vivid

description of the musical features they have learnt about with the use of technical

terms, some may find it difficult to explain as they only recognise those features when

they hear the music. Whether national or ethnic features can be extracted and

explained in words or can only be felt through listening, they are the fundamentals of

the established rules in people’s minds, based on what a piece of music is labelled.

Although it is possible to discover some common features of the music representative

of a cultural or geographic area with an exhaustive and systematic study into a

considerable number of works, not every listener has access to various works from

different areas which share same characteristics and not everyone has the opportunity

to hear all the pieces from a large enough repertoire to generate a definitive view of

the music of one area. Scholars can spend time collecting a corpus of works,


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analysing the basic structures in a scientific way from a ‘musical’ perspective, such as

scales, rhythmic patterns, melodic contours, harmonies and instrumentation, as well as

from other viewpoints, such as the function of the music, the context of the

performance, and the making and listening processes of the music. If they have

already come across other corpora from different cultures, they can also make

comparisons and will probably find correlation among those different music

traditions. However, the general public might not be able to carry out such large-scale

research. Most people associate certain music with a specific culture, area or social

group according to, if not the findings of those scholars, their own listening

experience. It is not uncommon that what one considers the general musical features

of an area are far different from what is actually the case. Listeners’ upbringing, daily

lives and the context in which they encounter a new sound, can decide how music is

imprinted in their minds and thus form a commonsensical notion of musical identity,

which they simply take for granted.

For example, one-off events often leave lasting and incorrect impressions.

People from the Far East may regard all bagpipe music as Scottish, because they have

only heard it in the world-famous Edinburgh Military Tattoo, but do not know that the

instrument is actually used in other European countries such as France or Spain.

Similarly, although Flamenco, which features scales in the Phrygian mode, is just one

music tradition from Andalusia, those who attended only Flamenco performances

during a package holidays in Spain would always remember the Phrygian flavour as a

Spanish marker and think of Spanish music as Flamenco. In fact, the Phrygian mode

is also heard in Latin American guitar music, and there are other different types of

music in northern Spain. Moreover, a particular environment can create a specific

musical image in people’s mind too. For example, an elderly Englishman might


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believe that the melodic pattern of some Japanese folk songs is Chinese because the

Chinese cover versions were popular when he spent his youth in the Japanese

controlled International Settlement in Shanghai in the early 1940s. In addition to their

personal listening experience, people are also influenced by other external factors,

such as the media, peer groups or their social affiliation. For example, the frequent

use of a resounding gong as a cue of the appearance of a Chinese kung fu master in

films has made the tone of the instrument an unquestionable musical image of China.

Members of a philharmonic society or social club may regularly be introduced by a

guest speaker or musicians to certain works which they then believe representative of

an ethnic group. Although Mozart’s piano piece ‘Turkish March’ may not sound

Turkish to us today at all, concertgoers or socialites at Mozart’s time would accept the

idea because they were told so.4 Thus, the various circumstances in which people

acquire their musical knowledge may give different and partial impressions of

nationality or ethnic identity in music, which will be saved in a person’s musical

knowledge base and become a reference for music labelling in the future.

Since individual perception of musical quality differs from person to person,

as well as from the culture in which a person is brought up, one may not be able to

differentiate two features which others judge to be distinctive. For example, some

people can sense the stylistic subtleties between Argentine and ballroom tango music,

pointing out that the former varies in speed and mood but the latter generally

maintains a solitary beat and lacks of emotions. However, others may not recognise

such differences but only notice the variation in instrumentation. On the assumption

that the changes of tempo and mood in a tango piece are the most striking features

which makes an Argentine tango distinct from a ballroom tango, those who are

perceptually incapable to take in the distinctions will fail to recognise the Argentine


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characteristic in the music, even if they have already gained the knowledge. In his

book How Musical Is Man, John Blacking argues that as sensory discrimination is

developed in culture, people may not be able to describe the differences between

musical intervals they can hear if those intervals have no significance in their musical

system. He indicates that although the Venda people in South Africa are regarded as

very musical by white settlers, an outstanding Venda musician might fail to make a

distinction between two obviously different melodic patterns and might consider the

intervals of fourth and fifth the same, because their perception of sound is basically

harmonic.5 As can be imagined, the Venda musician might find it difficult to join a

conversation where two graduate students in musicology are discussing the bulk use

of several types of intervals as a characteristic of folk songs in a certain area.

Therefore, the perception determined by one’s musicality or cultural background has

an impact on how national, ethnic or geographical musical features can be detected.

Apart from the culture background and musicality, individual listening habits

or preferences also decide how the musical elements, which give nationality, ethnicity

or other geographical identities, are observed and recognised. When coming across a

new song, most people would always try to find the main melody so that there is a

thread to follow throughout the song, dismissing the strong pulsation of the bass or

the piercing riff delivered by a treble instrument. Nevertheless, some people would

take the sounds of all instruments and the singers’ voices as a whole, paying attention

to each musical part in order to identify how different parts are bound together to

generate musical pleasure. Others might only be attracted by some particular feature,

such as a specific instrumental part or the pattern of chord progression, even though

they can actually hear every sound in the song. Because each person lays emphasis

on different aspects of music, while some listeners would unconsciously neglect in a


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repertoire some musical elements which give a specific flavour, others might be able

to see a colourful ethnic image or notice a unique feature created by the musical

elements they have selectively observed. This can be especially problematic when

ethnic musical elements from more than one origin are integrated into a single piece,

for example, if a Chinese musician plays Vittorio Monti’s Hungarian-styled Csárdás

on the huqin fiddle.6 To what extent it still sounds Hungarian, or how Chinese it can

be, depends on whether a listener is struck more by the tune, the timbre of the

instrument or the new arrangement.

Therefore, it seems that musical knowledge has to be developed before

listeners can match what is heard with the criteria in their minds, yet it should be

noted that an individual’s perception of musical quality also has impacts on the

process of knowledge development. The learning process or discovery of the stylistic

components of a repertoire may well be influenced by an individual listener’s

musicality, cultural background and listening habit. For example, when hearing some

foreign folk songs, a native folk guitarist may be able to work out precisely the

unusual chord progression of the accompanying guitar in those songs and thus learn

the exotic features. However, a less musical person might gain an impression that

those foreign folk songs are similar to native songs because the guitar accompaniment

does not sound exotic. Therefore, rules in mind and perception are not merely two

independent factors that shape how people perceive musical characteristics but two

factors that are also inseparably intertwined.

In summary, for example, taking the world-famous Scottish tune ‘Auld Lang

Syne’, it is questionable how Scottish it would still be, or how Chinese it could be, if

the penultimate bar of the tune was modified into a Chinese melismatic fragment, as

shown in Ex.1, and sung in a nasal voice.


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Ex.1 Modified Scottish ‘Auld Lang Syne’

II. Chineseness in music

It may be difficult to give an unqualified answer to the above question

regarding a modified ‘Auld Lang Syne’, yet to Western ears the nasal melismatic

melody does bear a Chinese mark.7 Westerners in the nineteenth and early twentieth

centuries had made some observations from the perspective of their understandings of

music. With the introduction of recording technology at the turn of the twentieth

century, music from the Orient could be recorded and played to Westerners. Those

who were dispatched to the Far Eastern frontline to collect those sounds appeared to

be the privileged, as they could not only hear the music before it reached consumers

but also witness the performances. However, undertaking recording sessions,

particularly in an enclosed space, might have been torture to those Western recording

engineers or business representatives who had no knowledge of, let alone appreciation

for, Oriental music, but were simply sent by their companies to the Orient to open up

a new market and at the same time to make recordings of ‘exotic’ music. As Fred

Gaisberg, a business representative of the Gramophone Company, who started his

Asian tour in 1902, wrote in a field report, in Shanghai they had to stop the session

after making ten records because, as he pointedly complained, the din had so

paralysed his wits that he could not think. 8 From his point of view, the differences

between the tunes of any two records were so insignificant that he could hardly detect


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them. Obviously, whatever form of Chinese music Gaisberg had heard in Shanghai, it

was no more than an unpleasant and prolonged noise, and thus to him and other

recordists, listening to Chinese music in person did not seem to be a privilege.

However, in those years of the nineteenth century before the advent of sound

retrieving devices, a few Westerners had already recorded Chinese music via written

words and transcriptions. Their accounts in publications of Chinese musical sounds

reflect the response anyone might have given when encountering a form of ‘music’

which is extremely different from one’s own expereince of music. For example, after

viewing an operatic performance in Canton, Henry Ellis, the Third Commissioner of

Lord Amherst’s British diplomatic mission to China in 1816 to 1817, believed

Chinese opera to be inferior to its Western counterpart and described the performance

as ‘annoyance of a sing-song’ and a ‘mass of suffering’. Ellis stated that he never

again wanted to endure ‘the noise of actors and instruments’ which he would not even

call musical.9 In a similar vein, the French Romantic composer Hector Berlioz

contended that to call what Chinese people produced by their vocal and instrumental

noise as music was ‘a strange abuse of the term’.10 In addition to ‘noise’ and ‘non-

music’, it seems that to some Westerners in the nineteenth century, Chinese music,

especially those singing voices in theatrical productions, was so extremely

disagreeable that they would use any harsh words and analogies to describe what they

had experienced. For example, William Tyrone Power, the Commissary General-in-

Chief of the British army commented, in a book about his term of service in China,

that Chinese singers employed ‘an unnatural falsetto key’ ‘pitched as high as

possible’, and the vocal timbre was ‘hideous and ludicrous’ which could be compared

to ‘a tom cat caterwauling on the pantiles’.11 Criticising that nothing so strange had

ever struck his ear as a ‘Chinaman’s voice’, Berlioz depicted Chinese singing as ‘a


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series of nasal, guttural hideous tones’ and equated it with ‘the sounds a dog makes

when after a long sleep it stretches its limbs and yawns’, and even more derogatorily,

‘wildcat howls’, ‘death-rattles’ and ‘turkey cluckings’.12

Nevertheless, despite those contemptuous opinions, the two British officers

mentioned above also presented some slightly more favourable views. Once in a

small village Ellis saw a performance of the yangqin, whose sound he described as the

European harpsichord, and found it ‘superior in harmony to any’ Chinese music he

and other colleagues had heard.13 Power also had a more enjoyable Chinese musical

experience where he heard Chinese Buddhist monks chanting and playing bells and

drums. To Power, this was apparently far better than the dreadful impression the

Chinese theatrical singing had made on him, as he remarked in his book that the

chanting, together with bells and drums, was ‘awe-inspiring’.14 Unfortunately,

Gaisberg did not encounter these during his fieldwork in Shanghai, otherwise he

would not have called what he recorded ‘din’ if he shared a similar musical aesthetic

with Ellis and Power.

There were already some personal impressions of Chinese music briefly

mentioned in books written by previous residents of China. However, a few

missionaries, scholars and informed amateurs, who had closer contact with the natives

or had resided in China over a longer time span, made an effort to collect and study

Chinese music and finally published their works back in their homelands. Some

Jesuit Missionaries in the early eighteenth century and Protestant missionaries from

Britain and America in the nineteenth century had examined Chinese musical

practices, instruments and theories in an attempt to gain deeper understanding and,

from the viewpoint of their Western musical traditions, to explain how Chinese music

was inferior to theirs.15 Among Western works, an important and perhaps the most


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quoted one in the West before the 1950s is Chinese Music written by J. A. van Aalst,

a Belgian who started his career with the Chinese Imperial Maritime Customs in

Guangdong Province in 1881 and then transferred to Beijing in 1883. This book was

published in 1884 and probably based on an intensive study into the subject using

Aalst’s musical expertise acquired in the Royal Conservatory of Ghent in Belgium.

Although recognising a small number of acceptable qualities in theatrical songs and

religious and ritual music, Aalst summed up his analysis at the end of his book by

listing four major shortcomings of Chinese music. In his opinion, firstly, some

intervals of the scale were not properly tuned. Secondly, due to a lack of precision in

manufacture, there was no exact accuracy of pitch on Chinese musical instruments.

Thirdly, the melodies were always in unison, in the same key and devoid of variation

in sound volume and movement and lastly, as Chinese tunes were not clearly set in a

major or minor key, but fluctuated between the two, the distinct happy and sad

emotions or the charming effects produced by the alteration between them were

absent.16

Besides describing Chinese music in written works, Westerners also had their

own views of China from musical compositions. The growing awareness of and

fascination with Chinese art and architecture in Europe from the mid seventeenth

century led to the formation of an artistic style, chinoiserie, which was the

imagination or evocation of Chinese motifs and techniques in art, furniture and

architecture. In the world of music, classical composers also started to include

elements they considered Oriental to evoke the flavour of such an exotic country.17

American songwriters of sheet music in Tin Pan Alley or composers hired by theatre

producers had employed some musical devices in their works since the late nineteenth

century to convey Chinese or Oriental images. According to Krystyn R. Moon, their


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compositions usually featured syncopated rhythms and dissonant intervals, which

were heard in African American music and in Orientalist operas, together with sounds

from the properly tuned Western twelve-note scale. Moreover, recurring and droning

rhythms, genuine Chinese musical instruments and pentatonic materials drawn from

transcriptions of Chinese music, which were brought to the West by missionaries or

those who had stayed in China, could also be found in their repertoire.18 These

musical characteristics, combined with Westerners’ general impression of Chinese

music at that time, even served as a standard for judging whether a piece of work with

a Chinese theme was musically authentic. Songs or music in theatrical productions

would receive comments from critics, who recognised the ‘Chineseness’ from the use

of grace notes, parallel fourths and fifths, a minor key, repeated semiquavers and

pentatonicism, and by the noise which was typically Chinese, such as ‘the clash and

crash of huge cymbals’ and ‘the squeak and squeal of Chinese instruments’.19

Interestingly, the Western-produced musical Chineseness was appropriated by

Japanese songwriters in the 1930s and 1940s when the Japanese record industry

started making popular songs with themes of China and other Asian countries. Edgar

W. Pope singles out a distinct melodic pattern featuring a descending pentatonic

sequence of notes set against a repeated rhythmic figure, which he traces back to a

song titled ‘Shanghai March’ (Shanhai kôshinkyoku) released by Japan Victor in

1931, where melodic fragments of this pattern appeared in the instrumental

introduction and interlude between the verses (Ex.2, I). Pope compares this melodic

passage to the commonly used Chinese theme in Hollywood film music during the

same period, such as an example from MGM’s 1937 production The Good Earth

(Ex.2, II). He suggests that the association with China evoked by melodies of this

type was possibly instilled in the Japanese through American films, as Hollywood


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productions had been very popular in Japan as early as the 1920s. Moreover, not only

in film scores but also in Tin Pan Alley songs one can find a similar melodic design.

An example is a passage from the piano introduction to ‘Chinatown, My Chinatown’

(Ex.2, III), published far earlier in 1910, which bears comparable pentatonic and

rhythmic characteristics, though the melody is harmonised with a Western tone

colour. This passage also serves as a substantial sample of the musical devices, as

indicated by Moon, used as a signifier of China or the Orient by American

songwriters. 20

Ex.2 Melodic patterns signifying China

It is questionable whether those comments on Chinese music and images of

China in Western compositions are justifiable. Chinese people may want to argue that

the derogatory comments on Chinese musical performance given by Westerners such

as Ellis, Power and Berlioz, the four specific defects in Chinese music as judged by

van Aalst, and the musical devices associated with China in film music and popular

songs are all drawn from culturally biased views, full of one-sidedness and partiality.

However, considering the way in which people gain their impressions of nationality in

music, as discussed earlier, those views are understandable. Those Westerners simply


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applied the musical knowledge they had learnt in their culture to what they heard in

China. Some of them could only equate Chinese music with noise based on their

definition of ‘music’, whereas others, from their technical point of view, deemed

Chinese music backward. Moreover, as there was no need, and perhaps nowhere, to

develop a musical capacity to appreciate Chinese singing or the acoustic effect of

instrumental performances in their society at that time, a person like Gaisberg would

certainly not be ‘musical’ enough to tell the difference between ‘din’ and Chinese

music nor the variation among those pieces he recorded. In fact, it is not merely a

Western practice to criticise a specific type of music from the perspective of an

existing standard or dominant aesthetic. About 2,500 years ago in China, Confucius

condemned the folk songs of Zheng as being over-rampant (yin, literally ‘licentious’),

and compared them to ‘those who overthrow states with their sharpened tongues’. He

abhorred the music of Zheng being confused with yayue (literally ‘elegant music’), a

form of music performed in the Imperial Court, but considered the ancient music from

the period of Emperor Shun perfect and held it in high esteem.21 Zixia, one of

Confucius’ disciples, also contended

The airs of Kang [Zheng] go to a wild excess, and debauch the mind; those of

Sung [Song] tell of slothful indulgence and women, and drown the mind;

those of Wei are vehement and rapid, and perplex the mind; and those of Khî

[Qi] are violent and depraved, and make the mind arrogant. The airs of those

four states all stimulate libidinous desire, and are injurious to virtue.22

Unlike those Westerners in the nineteenth century who laid more emphasis on

musical techniques and compositional theories, Confucius and Zixia in the fifth

century BC were concerned about the impact of music on minds and morality rather

than aspects of musical techniques and compositional theories. Nevertheless, they


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judged whether the music of a specific area was decent by using only their own

principles that music was meant to cleanse one’s spirit rather than serving primarily as

a source of personal sensual pleasure.23 Therefore, in a sense, Confucius and his

followers are no less culturally egocentric, disapproving of the hedonistic nature they

saw in the music of Zheng and other areas, than those Westerners who failed to

perceive the charm of Chinese singing voice, nor is the tone of their language less

strident than that of the Westerners’.

However culturally biased Western criticism of Chinese music may seem,

these negative comments may serve as a positive basis for understanding Chinese

musical features. The remainder of this section will address two issues which

Westerners mentioned all the time, Chinese musical texture and scales, and an

important third issue which Westerners did not observe in early years, which was the

relationship between lexical tones and musical tunes in Chinese vocal works. Owing

to the immense geographical size and population of China, there is definitely diversity

within Chinese musical traditions, and therefore there is a risk when one attempts to

generalise Chinese music of oversimplifying this diversity and overlooking

minorities.24 Therefore, this discussion is not meant to be exhaustive and will merely

focus on the features commonly heard in most forms of Chinese music.

1. Musical texture

One important feature of Chinese traditional music is its heterophonic texture.

Except for the music of some minorities in southwestern and southern China where

there are polyphonic vocal traditions, Chinese music lays more emphasis on melodic

design.25 Since the harmonic and contrapuntal structures that are widely seen in


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Western works are not employed, when more than one part of voices play

simultaneously the vertical alignment of intervals between parts is coincidental and

not important. For example, in instrumental music, such as sizhu (‘silk-and-

bamboo’), the chamber music tradition of the Jiangnan area (central eastern China),

all members of an ensemble play a single melodic outline from memory, but each of

them interprets and embellishes the same melody according to the idiomatic practices

of the instrument and personal aesthetic preferences. In this way, individual melodic

lines delivered by various instruments most of the time sound in unison. Although

there may be concurrence of different pitches when musicians interpret the same

melody in different ways, such as adding ornamental notes or an interlude, the

combination of these different pitches does not follow the Western system of

patterned chord progressions at all (Ex.3).26

Ex.3 The heterophonic texture in instrumental music


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Besides pure instrumental works, the heterophonic texture is also found in

vocal performances when they are accompanied by instruments. For example, the

singing in traditional opera is accompanied by an ensemble, usually led by the high-

pitched huqin, playing in much the same way as sizhu. All instrumentalists, except

the percussionists, follow the same melody as that sung by the actor, taking certain

tonal and rhythmic liberty to add ornamental phrases. Likewise, in story-telling

ballads, such as Suzhou tanci, the accompanying pipa, sometimes together with a

sanxian, produces a melodic line similar to the vocal line with inserted idiomatic

decorative passages. The excerpt from an aria of yueju (the regional opera from the

Zhejiang province) in Ex.4 offers an example where the fiddle plays ornamental notes

and interludes, against the vocal line, to accompany the singing.27

Ex.4 Instrumental accompaniment in vocal music

It was probable that clashes between pitches (according to the Western

understanding of consonance and dissonance) and repetition between voices, together

with the timbre of high-pitched singing voice and instrumentation which lacked a

powerful bass section, that made Westerners associate Chinese music with noise.


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Nevertheless, these are musical features with which Chinese people have lived for

centuries.

2. Musical scale

To Western ears, the pentatonic marker is one of the conspicuous

characteristics of Chinese music, yet pentatonicism is not unique to Chinese music. It

also occurs outside the territories of China and is usually regarded to a wider range as

Oriental. In fact, pentatonic melodies can often be heard in music from other

continents. Tunes constructed on the pentatonic scale appear, for instance, in the

Celtic traditions in Scotland, Ireland and Wales, in the music of the Native Americans

in the Andes, in melodies passed on generation by generation on Polynesian islands

and in xylophone music and Sudanese songs in Africa. Despite the omnipresence of

pentatonicism in many traditional or aboriginal repertoires around the world, there are

variances among five-tone scales in different geographical or cultural regions.

According to the pattern of whole tones and semitones, pentatonicism falls into three

types (Ex.5). The most frequently heard type is characterised by its lack of semitone,

containing only major seconds and minor thirds, and is thus called the anhemitonic

(without semitone) pentatonic scale. This is the most familiar and is usually referred

to as the pentatonic scale. The second type, containing semitones and other intervals,

is termed the hemitonic pentatonic scale. Melodies set on this type can be found in

Japanese and New Guinean music, and the example given is the Japanese hirajoshi

(‘level tuning’) scale, on which the famous folk song ‘Cherry blossom’ (Sakura) is

constructed. The third type of pentatonic scale, radically unfamiliar to most people

due to its intervals falling outside most musical traditions, is the equipentatonic scale,


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which divides the octave into five roughly equal intervals. The equipentatonic scale is

used in Javanese, Balinese and some African instrumental music.

Ex.5 Three types of pentatonicism

Ex.6 Three mostly used Chinese pentatonic modes

The pentatonicism used in Chinese music belongs to the first type,

anhemitonic, which is widely seen in most Chinese folk songs, story-telling ballads,

the arias of various regional operas and instrumental music. In line with the relative

order of intervals on the scale, the five notes are named gong, shang, jue, zhi and yu,

and using the sol-fa syllables employed in Western European music, can be sung as


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do, re, mi, sol and la respectively. All of these five notes can function as the tonic and

thus form five different modes, each with a distinct series of intervals. The gong (do),

zhi (sol) and yu (la) modes are the three common modes, and the gong mode can be

compared to the major mode in Western music and the yu the minor (Ex.6). The

shang (re) and jue (mi) modes are less common compared with the other three.

While theoretically it is on the base of these five primary notes (zhengyin, or

literally ‘orthodox tone’), that the skeleton of Chinese traditional music is formed,

Chinese music is not always strictly pentatonic. Although there are folk songs or

instrumental pieces composed of only these five notes, in many works the so-called

‘altered tone’ (pianyin), that is qingjue (fa), bianzhi (fa-sharp), run (ti-flat) and

biangong (ti), are also used. These altered tones in practice can be viewed as

extensions of the pentatonic scale. Starting from C, taking five consecutive pitches

from the circle of fifths and transposing them to fit into one octave, one can produce a

series of pitches, C-G-D-A-E, which can be rearranged to form a pentatonic scale.

Picking up more pitches from the circle of fifths in the same fashion at both ends of

the series, F and B-flat at one end, and B and F-sharp the other, the pentatonic scale

can then be expanded to two hexatonic and three heptatonic scales (Ex.7).

Ex.7 Expansion of the pentatonic scale


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Though employed in Chinese music, these altered tones are subsidiary in

importance to the five notes, usually either serving as a passing, auxiliary note, an

arbitrary ornamental note or resulting from modulation. A few examples are given in

Ex.8.28 In a manner similar to the way non-chord tones function in Western musical

theories, in Chinese music a passing note links two primary pentatonic notes a third

apart to allow smooth, scale-wise motion, whereas an auxiliary moves a second away

below or above a primary note and returns to it (Ex.8, I & II). When an altered tone

appears as an arbitrary ornamental note, it moves away from the preceding note by

skip or leap and then step to another primary note (Ex.8, III). The last example (Ex.8,

IV) illustrates two altered notes resulting from modulation, featuring a strict sequence

of the note group in the second half of the phrase.

Ex.8 Uses of altered tones in Chinese traditional music

There is a need to identify how those ‘extra’ notes are added to Chinese music

if the first five of the series are the ‘basic’ or the most important notes. Going through

the evolution of melody in music history from a musicological viewpoint, Bence

Szabolcsi traces in his book A History of Melody the formation of diatonicism back to


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pentatonicism.29 Based upon melodic material from East European and West Asian

folk tunes, Szabolcsi finds that in some areas the pentatonic melody has a

characteristic tendency to expansion, repeating at a lower register to form a cascade.

In order to keep the pentatonic scheme intact the transposed melody in some cases

changes using adjacent pentatonic notes to supply any altered tones needed, while in

others the sense of maintaining a pure tonal system gives way to the desire to stick to

the same melodic shape resulting in a strict transposition and adoption of altered

tones. Szabolcsi argues that as the feeling of diatonicism became stronger, the

traditions of pentatonic discipline were weakened, first by occasionally using altered

tones as passing notes and later by integrating these elements, which were alien to

pentatonic schemes, to permanently fill gaps in the pentatonic melody. The

unaccented passing notes gradually turned to be essential notes on accented beats,

which made the five-note system expand and evolve into diatonicism.

To sum up, although based on pentatonicism, altered tones are definitely heard

in Chinese music, and it is not only the pentatonic scale but also the way these non-

pentatonic notes are used that characterises Chinese music.

3. Tones and tunes

English poets make use of metre to ensure that their poetry fits a particular

rhythm, and when setting poems to music, most of the time if not always, English

composers match the textual rhythm to musical stresses. There is the counterpart in

Chinese songwriting. English is a stress language, in which there is a fixed pattern of

strong and weak syllables within a word, and a change in the stress point can change

the meaning of a word. Thus, when writing a tune for words, a basic rule is to make


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the accented syllables of words align with musical accents so that the singer can

articulate appropriately and the audience appreciate each word in the lyrics. The

melody should not force a normally unaccented syllable to be stressed, or a wrenched

accent will be produced. However, due to distinctive linguistic differences between

Chinese and English, the placement of word stresses in music is not a Chinese

songwriter’s concern. Instead, the lexical tone is the prime issue to be dealt with.

Theoretically, writing Chinese lyrics for an existing tune, or composing a melody for

a Chinese verse, would demand an effort of coordinating lexical tones and musical

contours so that the words in a song can flow as smoothly as in natural speech and to

be intelligible to the audience. Before looking into how the tone may be taken into

consideration in setting Chinese words to music, it is necessary to address the

fundamental characteristics of the Chinese language as these have a crucial impact on

this issue.

As opposed to English and some major European languages, there are two

auditory features of the Chinese language, the monosyllabic nature of the characters

and the tonal quality of the syllables.30 A ‘word’ can be generally defined as a unit of

language or its representation in writing, and it may consist of one or more syllables.

In English and some other writing systems spaces are used to separate words in the

text but word boundaries are not clearly marked out in Chinese. Chinese words are

written in a string of characters without interword separations. A Chinese character is

a written symbol, which corresponds to only one syllable articulated in a specific tone

and may be a word in itself or be part of a word. To put it another way, though a

Chinese word can be mono- or polysyllabic, as is in other languages, these fixed-

toned syllables are recorded in the text with characters, each of which stands for only

one syllable.


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In a stress language, such as English, tone is mainly used to express emphasis,

to communicate a subtle nuance, or to turn a statement into a question, yet tone alone

does not alter the meaning of individual words. In contrast, Chinese is a tone

language, in which tone is an integral part of a word and variations in pitch are used to

distinguish lexical meanings. Based on the Ancient Chinese tonal system, there are

four major tone categories in Chinese, which are the ‘level’ (ping), ‘rising’ (shang),

‘departing’ (qu) and ‘entering’ (ru) tones. Each tone category may be further split

into two registers, yin and yang, yielding eight tone types.31 However, because the

tonal system has developed many regional variations through time, the exact tone

contour, or pitch movement, of each type changes regionally. Although Chinese

people share a standard set of characters and a common standard in writing, there are

many regional variants in modern spoken language. How a character is read can

differ from dialect to dialect, in terms of both pronunciation and tone.

The phonology of the official spoken language, Standard Mandarin, formally

known as ‘common language’ (putonghua) in China or ‘national language’ (guoyu) in

Taiwan, basically draws on that of the Beijing dialect with some modification.

Therefore, the pronunciation of characters in Standard Mandarin only represents the

sound system of one of many Chinese dialect groups. One who only learns the

standard spoken language at school would encounter unexpected changes in either

vowel or consonant value, or both of them, of the pronunciation of a character when

travelling from one place to another, which are similar to regional variations of

English pronunciation in the British Isles. As for regional diversity in tone, Chinese

dialects vary significantly in their individual tonal systems. Tones used in a dialect do

not always fall into the eight types previously mentioned. For example, there are only

four tones in Standard Mandarin: yinping, yangping, shang and qu. The shang and qu


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tones do not split into yin and yang registers, and the ru tone has through time already

been distributed among the other three tone categories. Besides, a neutral tone, which

has no specific tone contour and is not included in these eight types, is also used.

Cantonese has as many as nine tones, including all of the eight tone types, one of

which, the yinru tone, divides further into two subtypes. Furthermore, in addition to

the differences among the numbers of tone types used in dialects, the way the pitch

moves in a specific tone type varies in individual dialects as well. For example, the

yangqu tone in Shanghai dialect has a low rising contour while in Cantonese it is a flat

tone. The qu tone in Standard Mandarin, which does not split into yin and yang, is a

sharp falling one.32 In addition to the considerable diversity in tone contours and the

numbers of tone types, there is one more phenomenon worth noting, which is tone

sandhi, or alteration of a tone to a different tone contour influenced by its preceding or

following tone in speech flow. For example, in Standard Mandarin, a shang tone

becomes a yangping tone when followed by another shang tone. Rules governing

tonal alterations also vary among dialects. In some dialects such as Mandarin and

Cantonese there are comparatively few sandhi environments whereas others such as

Shanghainese and Taiwanese can have more complicated sandhi rules for every single

tone used in the language.33

Poetry has long been associated with music. In poetry, patterns of metre are

used among other poetic techniques to produce rhythmic effects, which are usually

regarded as an important musical quality in this literature genre. In English poetry,

metre is founded on the pattern of stressed and unstressed syllables and thus the

composition of an English poem involves arrangement of syllables into feet, whereas

in classical Chinese verse, especially the ‘modern style verse’ (jintishi), ‘lyric metres’

(ci) and ‘dramatic verse’ (qu), there are fixed tone patterns prescribing not only the


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number of syllables but also what tones to be used throughout verse lines.34 The four

major tone categories in Chinese are divided into two classes for the metrical purpose.

The ‘level’ tone is regarded as ‘level’ (ping), and the ‘rising’, ‘entering’ and

‘departing’ tones as ‘deflected’ (ze). Though some liberty is allowed, the tone of each

character in a poem has to be consistent with its designated value, ping or ze,

according to the chosen tone pattern. Therefore, when reciting a Chinese poem, in

addition to the rhythmic beat, the tonal pulsation is also produced by the alternation

between the ‘level’ and ‘deflected’ tones in the uttered syllables.

Perhaps due to the tonal nature of their language, building up on overplayed

syllabic tone contours, Chinese people are inclined to recite verse lines with a

fluctuating intonation. Such a lilt could have easily evolved into a simple tune and

finally become a generally recognised fixed melody for recitation.35 Thus, a range of

tunes developed through time in different regions for poetry chanting. For the ‘Tang

poetry’, there were specific modes of tunes for poems written in different tone

patterns. Unlike ‘modern style verse’, in which words came first, ‘lyric metres’ and

‘dramatic verse’ were actually poetic works composed to given tunes, which dictate

tone patterns, rhyme schemes and the number of syllables. A writer chose an existing

tune, or simply composed a new one, and then ‘fitted’ characters into the tune in

accordance with the tonal requirement. However, neither the melodies for reciting

‘modern style verse’ nor the predetermined tunes to which the ‘lyric metres’ and

‘dramatic verse’ are written really correspond to the lexical tones of the characters.

As a tone pattern only specifies how ‘level’ and ‘deflected’ tones are arranged

through the lines in a poem, dividing all types of tones merely into two classes, the

subtleties of the pitch movement in individual syllables are not differentiated. For

example, any character that reads in the shang, qu or ru tone is qualified to fit in a


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place which requires the ‘deflected’. It is not always the case that the melodic contour

of the tune mirrors the rise and fall of lexical tones.

In brief, though the tonal quality of Chinese may have a definite role to give a

distinctive musical effect in Chinese poetry, words sung to formulaic tunes, which

differentiate only ‘level’ from ‘deflected’, cannot be fully comprehended by the

audience. Theoretically, some modification ought to be made to the melodic lines of

those fixed tunes to tell between individual tone types. It is not clear how and to what

extent several centuries ago Chinese people would have ‘bent’ the notes to serve this

purpose, nor is it known if regional variations of tone were taken into consideration.

However, techniques dealing with these issues can be observed in various existing

traditional vocal arts.

There is a wide range of regional forms of ballad singing and opera in China,

each of which has its repertoire of basic tunes and melodic models.36 When creating a

new piece, an artist usually sets the text to a chosen tune from the repertoire. These

tunes are not immutable, but rather they can be modified by artists from time to time

to accommodate the tone of an individual character or the intonation of a sentence in

the text. As an essential requirement in the performance of traditional ballad singing

and opera is to ensure that the content of lyrics is clearly understood by the audience,

an artist has to make some alterations to the tune, using grace notes to emphasise the

tone of individual syllables or developing exquisite melismatic patterns to highlight

the syllable. For example, in kunqu opera, an oldest extant form of Chinese opera,

there are rules for setting characters in different tones to music. For instance, a

melismatic sequence of notes, in which the second note moves an interval of second

or third downward before the melodic line ascends, can be used over a character in the

shang tone (Ex.9, I & II), whereas a character in the qu tone can be sung to a melodic


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passage in which the second note goes a second or third upward and falls thereafter

(Ex.9, III & IV).37

Ex.9 Melismatic design for specific tones

Another example from ‘Northeast drum story-singing’ (dongbei dagu), a form

of ballad singing popular in Northeast China, shows how inserted grace notes make

the flow of the melody roughly parallel to the change in pitch over individual

syllables (Ex.10).38 In addition to grace notes, it is noteworthy, in the example, that

the melodic shape of successive notes sung to a character, such as the first two

characters in bar 2, also reflect approximately its tone contour. Although the melodic

line over the second character in bar 3 moves in the direction opposite to the change

of pitch in the lexical tone, the large leap of a major seventh from the grace note

suggests the tone value.

Ex.10 Use of grace notes and intervals

A short musical phrase taken from gezaixi opera, a Taiwanese regional

operatic genre, serves as an example of how a melodic line can be bent to reflect


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variations of pitch movement over a syllable. An artist may lower the first note in the

phrase below for an interval of second, or add a grace note to it, so that the words

denoting three different vehicles in the text, the train (‘fire car’, Ex.11, I), the float

(‘flower car’, Ex.11, II) and the van (‘goods car’, Ex.11, III), which all sound the

same (huechia) if the tones are ignored, can be distinguished from one another.39

Ex.11 Bent melodic line

Unfortunately, due to their lack of knowledge of the Chinese language, in the

past Westerners could not observe the devices used for dealing with tones against

tunes in Chinese music, and thus failed to appreciate the art of combining words with

music which were so dissimilar to their own music traditions. 40


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III. Examining Shanghai popular songs

In one sense, just like the modified ‘Auld Lang Syne’, Shanghai popular song

is a product of musical materials from more than one origin. How the nationality of

this modified tune is recognised depends on a listener’s musical knowledge and

perception, as does how the various musical components in Shanghai popular song

can be separated for examination. While the analysis in this section draws on both the

‘knowledge’ of Chinese and Western music, which has been well documented in

literature, it relies on my own ‘perception’ of musical qualities which may differ from

that of other readers, and thus some verbal descriptions such as a certain ‘flavour’ or

‘impression’, may not be completely clearly perceived by others. Nevertheless, the

analysis will provide a guideline for identifying ethnic features and explain how they

are collaborated in Shanghai popular song.

1. Singing voice

Shanghai popular singers came from different backgrounds and thus acquired

their ‘knowledge’ of singing through various routes. Some started their careers in

song-and-dance troupes and received training there, some were in fact film stars and

started singing simply because that was required, some studied singing by attending

school or from private tutors and some were simply self-taught and developed their

vocal skills through time. To audiences today, whether they are Chinese fans or

Western onlookers, Shanghai popular singers’ voices in historical recordings may

sound nasal and high-pitched in comparison to those of pop singers today, yet there

are still differences among their vocal qualities. From the perspective of the singing

style or vocal techniques, both ends of the spectrum of voices can be found in


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recordings, the Chinese traditional style and the Western bel canto style. Before

examining recording examples, it is essential to understand the major difference

between Chinese and Western vocal techniques.

A fundamental difference is the way Western and Chinese vocal techniques

deal with the resonating cavities. According to the part of the human body in which

the sound mostly resonates, singing voices may be categorised into three registers,

representing the changing tonal qualities within the pitch ranges and these are the

chest, the middle and the head voices. The chest voice denotes a singer’s lower range

of voice, which generally resonates in the chest cavity and is usually described as

having a deep, weighty quality. The head voice is associated with a bright, light

singing voice at the upper end of a singer’s vocal range, which resonates in the mouth

and the head cavities. The middle voice refers to the warm, rich singing tones of a

singer’s middle pitch range resonating in the throat cavity, which is sometimes

regarded as the crossover between the chest and head voices.

The Western classical singing style, or precisely the bel canto, is characterised

by even vocal quality with the greatest amount of resonance through the whole of a

singer’s voice range where every singing note smoothly merges with the next to

produce continuous lines. To achieve this, a singer has to utilise all resonating

cavities properly, maintain a fine balance among various voice registers and develop

seamless transitions between registers. Singing in this style, one is required to be able

to place the head voice down to the notes that are normally produced as the chest

voice and vice versa. In other words, a trained vocalist would adjust the amount of

resonance in different cavities to gain consistent tone quality throughout the singing

range. For more favourable resonance, the larynx is lowered to expand the bottom of

the pharynx and sometimes there are even adjustments in the pronunciation of vowels.


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In contrast, rather than seeking to produce consistent tone quality across the entire

voice range by using different resonating areas, in the Chinese traditional singing

style a vocalist sings principally in the head voice and develops brighter and lighter

tones resonating mostly in the hard palate, the nose cavity and the head cavities.

Therefore, resonance of sounds is fixed principally in the anterior part of the head.

When singing, the larynx is positioned higher than it is in the bel canto style and there

is more laryngeal muscle tension. As every syllable has to be enunciated precisely,

the pronunciation of a vowel is never modified for the sake of optimum resonance.

Generally speaking, due to the differences between vocal techniques when using the

bel canto method, a singer tends to produce mellow, round and open-throated sounds,

singing in the Chinese traditional fashion, a singer’s tone quality is relatively nasal,

bright and with more tension in the throat.41

Due to these distinctive differences in Chinese and Western vocal traditions

and thus audiences’ varied expectations for tonal qualities, what sounds admirable and

properly trained in one tradition may be regarded as improper or hard to appreciate in

the other. Nevertheless, there are fundamental requirements which are common in the

two traditions. Trained singers are not only expected to sing in correct, steady pitches

and to enunciate word syllables clearly but also have to develop an extensive vocal

range and the ability to produce varying degrees of volume with desired resonance, to

perform with dynamics and, by breathing properly, to sing long phrases with adequate

volume and consistent tone quality. Although some of those who have never received

vocal training can stay in tune, keep the correct rhythm and articulate words precisely

throughout an entire song, there may be a lack of ideal resonance, dynamics in their

voices or of enduring firmness when singing a long phrase. When exploring the

singing styles and techniques in Shanghai popular songs, in addition to the stylistic


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dichotomy between Chinese and Western, a type of ‘untrained’ or ‘undeveloped’

voice whose quality does not meet the requirements of either of the traditions can also

be found in historical recordings. The practice of singing in this type of voice

probably has its root in the song-and-dance performances in the late 1920s and early

1930s. Members in a troupe would certainly receive training to articulate properly

and sing on pitch and beat, but as most of them were merely children or teenagers

whose vocal organs were still developing and thus have immature voices, they could

hardly produce the rich, resonant sounds of adults. However, as their live

performances and records sold well, it seems that the audience enjoyed their singing

style and therefore singing in an undeveloped voice became popular. Those members

who entered the broadcast or film industry at a later stage of their career obviously

continued this singing style. The well-known writer Eileen Chang once commented

that because of the craze for the ‘little sister’ (xiao meimei) style among the audience,

singers would squeeze their throats to produce reedy and flat sounds.42 This

‘strangling cat’ style, as criticised by the celebrated writer Lu Xun, can be heard in

some surviving historical recordings.

As a result of the differences between Chinese traditional and Western bel

canto singing styles and the explanation of untrained voice, four major types of

singing styles can be found in Shanghai popular songs.

Chinese traditional

The Chinese-style voice which features brighter head resonance can be heard

in Li Lihua’s ‘Heaven on Earth’ (Tianshang renjian) and Bai Hong’s ‘Burying Jade’

(Mai yu). In ‘Heaven on Earth’, Li Lihua sings in a thin yet bright voice, resembling


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that of a songstress performing in a Chinese traditional teahouse. In ‘Burying Jade’, a

tune which has a hint of Suzhou tanci, Bai Hong’s voice sounds soft and nasal in the

lower register and becomes sharp and carries more head resonance when the melodic

line moves to a higher pitch. This kind of sharp and head voice is also heard in Zhou

Xuan’s ‘When Will You Come Back Again’ (Heri jun zailai) and ‘Full Moon and

Blooming Flowers’ (Yueyuan huahao) and Gong Qiuxia’s ‘Roses Blooming

Everywhere’ (Qiangwei chuchu kai).

Bel canto

Examples of songs performed in the Western bel canto style are Ouyang

Feiying’s ‘Shangri-La’ (Xianggelila), Qu Yunyun’s ‘Young Lady In a Pedicab’

(Sanlunche shang de xiaojie) and Li Xianglan’s ‘Evening Fragrance’ (Yelaixiang). In

these three songs we can easily observe that, with a fine balance between their vocal

registers, singers use both head and chest cavities to produce a rich, round voice.

There is neither a striking contrast between their lower and higher vocal registers nor

does the tone of voice turn sharp as they go higher in pitches. Moreover, faster, wider

vibrato can also be heard on their high notes. Bai Hong’s voice in ‘Enchanting

Lipstick’ (Zuiren de kouhong) is another good example. Unlike the nasal and sharp

voice in the above mentioned ‘Burying Jade’, Bai Hong uses a deeper, fuller voice to

interpret this piece. Interestingly, in historical recordings examined in this study,

while no male singer is found performing in the Chinese traditional style, there are

however Western-style male singing voices. For example, Huang Feiran’s

‘Passionate Eyes’ (Reqing de yanjing), Sheng Jialun’s ‘Singing At Midnight’ (Yeban

gesheng) and Si Yigui’s ‘How Could I Forget Her’ (Jiao wo ruhe buxiang ta) are all

sung in the bel canto style.


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Mixed style

Although in some recordings we can recognise the distinctive tone quality

produced by Chinese traditional and bel canto vocal techniques, in others it may be

difficult to categorise one song rigidly into a specific style as a singers may apply

both Chinese and Western skills within one song. For example, in ‘Goodbye Shasha’

(Shasha zaihui ba), Bai Hong’s vocal timbre changes in different vocal registers. One

can feel more throat tension and a reedy texture in her lower register, but as she

reaches higher notes the muscle tension is much reduced and thus a mellow,

unstrained voice is produced. Another example is Yi Min’s voice in ‘Look at Me’

(Kan zhe wo), where the reedy texture disappears and chest resonance is introduced in

the higher register pitches. Wu Yingying also sings in an alternating style in ‘Meet by

Chance’ (Ping shui xiangfeng), but unlike the case of Bai Hong’s ‘Goodbye Shasha’,

her higher notes in this song are brighter and sharper with clear nasal resonance, while

the lower notes are warmer and unstrained. This singing manner can also be observed

in Zhang Fan’s ‘Red Peach Blossoms’ (Taohua duoduo hong).

Untrained voice

For the untrained voice, a recording of the earliest Shanghai popular song,

‘Drizzles’ (Maomao yü) sung by Li Minghui, serves as a good example. As Li must

have been over twenty years of age when recording this song, she could have

certainly sung in a richer voice with proper resonance if she had been provided with

proper coaching when she was in song-and-dance groups organised by her father, Li

Jinhui.43 However, in this recording, her voice generally still sounds preadolescent

and even rasping when striking the highest note in the song. She was therefore


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obviously singing in the ‘little sister’ style. Zhou Xuan’s ‘The Express Train’ (Tebie

kuaiche) is another case in point. Although every word is articulated accurately and

sung on pitch, Zhou’s voice seems to be conveyed straight away from her vocal tract

without resonating in any other cavities. What can be heard in this recorded piece is

an unsophisticated, childlike yet flat, thin voice. Other examples are Jiang Manli’s

‘Parting Forever My Younger Brother’ (Yongbie le wo de didi), Li Lili’s ‘New Song

of Fengyang’ (Xin fengyang ge) and Yao Li’s ‘Lovesickness for Sale’ (Mai xiangsi).

2. Instrumentation

Although Western instruments had a dominant position in Shanghai popular

song, Chinese instruments were never ignored. Most singers made at least a few

recordings with Chinese instrumental accompaniment. A songwriter worth special

note when discussing Chinese instrumentation in Shanghai popular song is Xu Ruhui.

Unlike Li Jinhui, who used both Chinese and Western instruments, Xu committed

himself only to using Chinese instruments. Having studied Chinese music in the

Great Unity Society (Datong yuehui) for five years, he gained extensive knowledge of

Chinese music and was thus in his compositions able to employ a wide range of

Chinese instruments, including some unusual ancient instruments. For example, in

‘Downstairs the Jade Tower’ (Xia qionglou), a song for the film Jade Horse (Feicui

ma), four Chinese instruments are used, the shuangqing (three-string plucked

instruments) and the erhu (a kind of huqin), both of which generally follow the vocal

line, the dahu (a kind of huqin pitched one octave below the erhu) which plays the

tune with some variation and adds ornamental notes at the end of every phrase, and

the ruan (four-string plucked instrument) which provides rhythmic support

throughout the whole piece. In ‘Happy Village Girl’ (Cungu le), a song for the film


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Extremely Forceful (Shenglong huohu), he not only used the well known pipa (four-

string plucked instrument) and di (side-blown flute) but also incorporated the less

frequently seen ancient instruments, the se (zither) and the xiqin (a earlier form of

huqin).44

Xu left Shanghai for Chongqing after the outbreak of Sino-Japanese War in

1937 and started to focus on instrumental and operatic works. He returned to

Shanghai after the war in 1945 and had never composed any popular song ever since.

Although his Midnight Music Society (Ziye yuehui) had been active until 1937 for

almost a decade in Shanghai, not only promoting his popular songs on radio but also

recording film music and screen songs he composed for the Star Motion Picture

(Mingxing yingpian gongsi), somehow his unique choice of Chinese instrumentation

did not seem to have much influence on the way Chinese instruments were used in

Shanghai popular song. Not all instruments he used were equally favoured by other

composers or arrangers, but instead, what can be identified in most recordings are

still commonly heard instruments. The following are examples of the use of Chinese

instruments in Shanghai popular song.

Basic combination

Theoretically, a string instrument and percussion should be adequate to

accompany a song as can be seen in the performance given by a songstress and a

fiddler in a traditional Chinese teahouse. In Yao Li’s ‘You Are Unwanted’ (Buyao

ni), with the steady beat of the bangzi (slit drum) throughout the whole song, the

huqin basically doubles the vocal line in the first verse and then plays a modified

melody throughout the rest of the piece. However, other than ‘You Are Unwanted’,

no further examples are to be found in known recordings.


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Small group

This is probably the combination of Chinese instruments most heard in

recordings. A typical small group consists of huqin, sanxian, yueqin (four-string

plucked instrument) and a percussion instrument, usually a drummer’s kit or bangzi,

yet sometimes one or two more instruments such as pipa and ruan are added. Zhou

Xuan’s ‘The Wandering Songster’ (Tianya genü) and ‘The Song of Four Seasons’

(Siji ge) are both performed to the accompaniment of huqin, sanxian, yueqin and

bangzi. The similar small group can also be heard in Wu Yingyin’s ‘Spring Sadness’

(Duanchang hong) and Pei Ni’s ‘Good Night Doesn’t Last’ (Liagye buneng liu).

Bigger ensemble

In some recordings, songs are accompanied by a bigger group resembling a

sizhu ensemble, which normally consists of the strings, including huqin, sanxian, pipa

and yangqin, the winds, including di (tranverse-blown flute), xiao (end-blown flute)

and sheng (mouth organ), and some percussion instruments. For example, Li Lihua’s

‘Heaven on Earth’ (Tianshang renjian) is accompanied by this kind of ensemble. A

similar combination of instruments can also be heard in Wu Yingyin’s ‘Setting Moon

And Crowing Raven’ (Yueluo wuti) and Yao Li’s ‘On The River Bank of Qinhuai’

(Qinhuaihe pan).

The use of Western instruments in Shanghai popular song can be traced back

to Li Jinhui’s Bright Moon Ensemble (Mingyue yinyuehui), which he founded in

1922. According to Li’s memoirs, rather than playing in unison as in a traditional

Chinese ensemble, he integrated Western instruments into the traditional sizhu music


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by allowing Chinese instruments, such as the huqin and the di, and Western

instruments, such as the violin and the piano, to take turns to deliver the main melody

in a piece. When an instrument played the tune, others in the ensemble provided

rhythmic support. Li maintained that all kinds of Western instruments could be

employed in ‘national music’ (guoyue), just as the huqin and the qiangdi were

adopted by Chinese people in the past.45 Although Li’s pioneering experiment in

combining Western instruments with Chinese music in performance can be heard in

some early recordings made in the late 1920s, such as Li Minhui’s ‘Peach and Plum

Blooming in Spring’ (Taoli zheng chun) and ‘The Poor Qiuxiang’ (Kelian de

Qiuxiang), those were actually songs composed for his children’s musical dramas

which, strictly speaking, are not Shanghai popular songs. There are no recordings of

his popular songs performed to the accompaniment of such combination.

It seems that Li Jinhui stopped using Chinese instruments in 1929 when he

started composing his love songs, the fountainhead of Shanghai popular song. In

most recordings of his love songs released in the 1930s only Western instruments can

be heard. For example, Zhou Xuan’s ‘The Express Train’, Li Minhui’s ‘Drizzles’ and

Wang Renmei and Li Lili’s ‘The River of Peach Blossom’ (Taohua jiang) are all

accompanied by Western instruments alone. It is unknown if any foreign musicians

participated in the recordings of Li’s works. Howevr, it is true that after White

Russian and Filipino instrumentalist joined the Shanghai pop industry in the early

1930s working at dancehalls or as session musicians and even being involved in song

arrangements, Western instrumentation gradually gained popularity among both the

audience and songwriters.

Among various combinations of Western instruments used in Shanghai

popular song, the wind-based, the string-dominated and the small combo are the three


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most heard ones. Apart from these three types, some individual instruments are

additionally worth mentioning.

Wind-based

Wind-based refers to the combination in which wind instruments such as

clarinet, saxophone, trumpet and trombone, which appear commonly in jazz, play a

heavy role, not only in accompanying the vocal line but also in the stirring

instrumental introduction, interlude and coda of a song, although other instruments

such as piano, guitar, double bass or percussion may also be engaged to provide

rhythmic support. The size of a wind-based group varies. Basically, seven or eight

players would be enough to form a group resembling a Dixieland band which usually

has the winds as the lead instruments and several other instruments in the rhythm

section. Nevertheless, polyphonic improvisation by the lead instruments, one of the

important features of Dixieland jazz, is not heard in Shanghai popular songs. In Bai

Hong’s ‘He Is the Spring Wind’ (Lang shi chunri feng) and Wu Yingyin’s ‘Pleasant

Nighttime’ (Hao chunxiao), the accompanying bands are of this kind. Sometimes, a

wind-based band consists of fewer instruments. In the recording of Wu Yinging’s ‘I

Wanna Forget You’ (Wo xiang wangle ni), only a trumpet, a clarinet, a guitar and a

double bass are clearly heard. A wind-based group may also expand to the size of a

big band, or jazz orchestra, which can be divided up into four sections, the trumpet,

the trombone, the saxophone and the rhythm section. There are four or more

members in each of the former three sections, and players in the saxophone section

may sometimes double on other woodwinds such as clarinet and flute. The rhythm

section contains instruments similar to those used in a Dixieland band. Bai Hong’s

‘Goodbye Shasha’ and Yi Min’s ‘Look at Me’ are accompanied by this kind of


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expanded band. According to Yao Li, a group consisting of just over ten members

was normally hired for a recording session, yet when making ‘Rose, Rose, I Love

You’ (Meigui meigui wo ai ni), EMI engaged more than thirty White Russian

instrumentalists to form a band to accompany her singing.46

String-dominated

The string-dominated format features the sound of robust backing string

harmony together with the adorable solo or tutti string passages throughout a song.

As with the case of the wind-based accompaniment, other instruments would usually

join a string-dominated band, and a piano or woodwind instruments are probably the

most commonly used. Ouyang Feiying’s ‘Misty Rain’ (Yu mengmeng) is a case in

point where the piano and flute can be occasionally heard against the rich, full sound

of a string orchestra. In Liang Ping’s ‘Spring Arrives But He Doesn’t’ (Chun lai ren

bulai), the flute and clarinet throughout the whole piece can be heard floating above

the strings. As no existing documentation indicates the exact size of the string-

dominated orchestra normally employed in the recording studio, and few historical

mono recordings still are in good condition or of sufficiently high acoustic fidelity to

make all tone-blended string parts discernible, it is difficult to tell whether all

instruments of the violin family are used.

Small combo

This small group comprising of only three or four instruments, the sort of band

that might be seen on a street corner café or restaurant, would suffice to produce a

pleasant background for a song without exuberant solo passages given in turns by


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several instruments. In Zhang Fan’s ‘Red Peach Blossoms’, only a piano, a violin, a

guitar and a double bass were used. While the double bass lays down a steady four-

beat-to-bar bass line throughout the whole recording, the piano builds up chord

voicings above the bass line and inserts short melodic or scale fragments at intervals.

Besides the strummed chords which are heard all the time, the guitar gives a short

solo on the tune before the last vocal verse. Unlike the other three instruments which

continuously provide rhythmic and harmonic support to the singing voice after

delivering a short introductory phrase, the violin plays intermittently either a

glimmering melodic line in its lower register or high-pitched melodic fragments.

Other examples of accompaniment in small combo settings are Yao Li’s

‘Lovesickness For Sale’ and Wu Yingyin’s ‘Full Moon in Deep Autumn’ (Quihua

yueman).

Piano

The piano is frequently heard in historical recordings. It either gives a

melodic interlude solo or provides rhythmic and harmonic support, but is rarely used

alone in existing recordings. Wu Yingyin’s ‘Infatuation’ (Nong ben chiqing) is the

only example found so far in which the piano is the only accompanying instrument. It

seems that the audience were not interested in songs accompanied by only one

instrument. There are ‘art songs’ originally written by conservatoire-trained

composers in the Shanghai era for vocal and piano in a format similar to the so-called

Kunstlied. Several songs of this kind are well known and were favoured both by the

audience at that time and by fans of ‘oldies’ nowadays, and so are sometimes

perceived as ‘Shanghai popular song’. Interestingly, the audience preferred those

which were performed with a band to those which were sung with only a piano


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accompaniment. For example, most fans remember Si Yigui’s recording of ‘How

Could I Forget Her’ accompanied by piano, strings and glockenspiel rather than the

version by Li Rengong who sings only to a piano accompaniment. In the most

frequently mentioned recording of ‘Adzuki Beans’ (Hongdou ci), Zhou Xiaoyan sings

to the accompaniment of piano, strings and woodwinds.

Accordion

The accordion is heard less in historical recordings in comparison to the piano,

the winds and the strings. It is not clear if other types of ‘squeezeboxes’ such as the

concertina or bandoneón, were employed in the studio, yet the most commonly used

one was the piano accordion which has a right-hand keyboard similar to a piano and

several rows of buttons in the left-hand manual providing chords and bass notes.47

Because the accordion has a wide compass and can produce both chords and a

melodic line simultaneously, with various tone colours on its own, unlike winds and

strings which are always played with other instruments in a band, it is not only played

in a group but sometimes also used alone to accompany a song. For example, in

Gong Qiuxia’s ‘Under the Clove Tree’ (Dingxiangshu xia), the jaunty sound of

backing chords and arpeggios on the accordion gives the song to semblance of a

polka. It enriches the instrumental accompaniment by inserting another layer between

the strings and winds in Bai Guang’s ‘If Living Without You’ (Ruguo meiyou ni) and

Gong Qiuxia’s ‘Spring’ (Chun). It accompanies the performance independently by

providing a rhythmic and chordal backdrop to the singing voice in Zhou Xuan’s

‘When Will You Come Back Again’ and Yao Li’s ‘White Orchid’ (Bailan xiang).


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Guitar

As with the piano, the guitar is usually used as part of a group to offer

harmonic and rhythmic support and sometimes solo phrases, but is rarely used on its

own. Yao Li and Yao Min’s ‘Congratulations’ (Gongxi gongxi) is the only work

known so far which is performed solely with a guitar. Unlike the ordinary acoustic

guitar which often merges into the background, the signature sound of languid

floating notes and glissandi of the Hawaiian guitar is cleared conveyed to the

audience. However, although this unique timbre can create a relaxed tropical

atmosphere, it is not necessarily used to deliver such an image in recordings. For

example, while the Hawaiian guitar is employed in Yao Li and Yao Min’s ‘Malayan

Scenery’ (Malai fenggurang), a song with a theme of nanyang (literally ‘southern

ocean’, referring to Southeast Asia), it also appears in Zhou Xuan’s ‘Everlasting

Lovesickness’ (Chang xiangsi), a song of a film set in the late Ming Dynasty (early

sixteenth century).

Xylophone

The xylophone and other tuned percussion instruments which work on the

same struck-bar principle are occasionally heard in historical recordings. The

xylophone usually provides a lively and delightful aural effect to the music, but the

vibraphone may give a melancholy feeling. Due to the poor sound quality of

historical recordings, it is sometimes difficult to tell the subtle difference in timbre

among the xylophone, the marimba and the vibraphone. However, there are still some

good examples. In Gong Qiuxia’s ‘Grumbling About Parents’ (Hen dieniang), the

xylophone gives a solo in the introduction and the interlude between verses, a pleasant


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Marimba solo on the tune is in Liang Ping and Yao Min’s ‘Ding-dong Bell and Drum’

(Ding ge linggu dang) and the vibraphone expresses a quiet and serene sorrow

throughout Bai Guang’s ‘Don’t Go’ (Ni buyao zou).

Latin percussion

Latin percussion instruments such as maracas, clave, conga and, probably,

bongo can be heard frequently in songs featuring the rhythm of rumba, such as Li

Xianglan’s ‘Evening Fragrance’, Bai Guang’s ‘Autumn Night’ (Qiuye) and Ouyang

Feiying’s ‘Shangri-La’.

Sometimes Chinese instruments, such as a single instrument or percussion,

would join in a Western combo to give a Chinese flavour. For example, the Chinese

gong and bangzi are used with the Western strings and woodwinds in Zhou Xuan’s

‘The Little Nuptial Chamber’ (Xiaoxiao dongfang) and in her ‘Dance of Meifei’

(Meifei wu) a pipa gives solo passages in the instrumental introduction and coda and

plays a slightly modified tune along the vocal line in the first verse. Interestingly, it

has long been believed by most fans that two Chinese instruments, suona (shawm)

and gong, are used in Zhou Xuan’s ‘Picking Beetle Nut’ (Cai binglang) to give the

regional character of the Hunan province which is where the tune originates, yet it is

actually the Western double-reed instrument, the English horn, that produces the

sound effect of the Chinese suona. Nevertheless, it was the composer’s intention to

use the English horn to create the impression of the suona.48


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3. Melodic content

In examining the melodic materials we can find that a few Shanghai popular

songs were adapted from Chinese folk tunes or operatic genres. Obvious examples

are some of Zhou Xuan’s works. ‘The Wandering Songstress’ and ‘Selling

Groceries’ (Mai zahuo) were actually a tune from Suzhou tanci and a folk song of

Guangdong respectively. While ‘Betel Nut Picking’ was composed by Li Jinguang

based on melodic patterns from the ‘flower-drum drama’ (huagu xi) of Hunan, ‘The

Song of Four Seasons’ was adapted by He Lüting from folk tunes of Jiangsu. There

are also songs, though not many, whose tunes were adapted from Western or Japanese

songs which were popular in Shanghai at the time. For example, the tune of Ying

Yin’s ‘On The Swing’ (Qiuqian jia shang) is that of ‘Man On The Flying Trapeze’,

whereas the melody of Ma Tingting’s ‘Rain Falls on Mandarin Ducks’ (Yu da

yuanyang) is identical to that of the famous ‘Cheek To Cheek’. Bai Hong’s ‘Don’t

Go So Fast’ (Bie zou de namo kuai) is almost the same as ‘On the Atchison, Topeka

and the Santa Fe’ except some modification in the refrain. Lang Yuxiu’s ‘Toast and

Sing’ (Beijiu gaoge) was a Chinese cover of ‘The Maine Stein Song’ and Yao Li’s

‘Dream of Spring’ (Chun de meng) was adapted from the Japanese song ‘China

Night’ (Shina no yoru). 49

A noteworthy case is ‘Malayan Scenery’ sung by Yao Li and Yao Min. This

song has long been believed to be derived from an Indonesian folk song that was

chosen as the national anthem of Malaysia in 1957. However, this is in fact incorrect.

Although its lyrics are about the beautiful scenery of Malaysia and the atmosphere of

tropical islands, created by the instrumental accompaniment in the recordings, can be

associated with Malaysia, its melody is entirely different from that of the Malaysian

national anthem.50


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Nevertheless, apart from those adapted tunes, most Shanghai popular songs

were indeed newly composed. While there may be a range of musical elements which

can give a musical work a particular ethnic character, whether subjectively or

objectively, there also may be a number of factors, such as some particular intervals,

rhythmic patterns or melodic contours, which can contribute to the ‘Chineseness’ or

‘Westernness’ in the melodies of those Shanghai popular songs. However, the

discussion below will focus on the scales on which songs are composed with an

emphasis on how non-pentatonic notes, the so-called ‘altered tones’ in Chinese terms,

are used in these works.

All Shanghai popular songs are tonal music. There are songs, apparently set

on the Western major and minor scales and on the Chinese pentatonic scale in

different modes, which can be easily identified. Other types of scales, such as the

Phrygian scale and the blues scale, though not commonly used, can also be heard in

several songs. Here are some examples:

Major scale

• Liang Ping’s ‘Young As I Am’ (Shaonian de wo)

• Bai Hong’s ‘The Coming of Spring’ (Chuntian de jianglin)

• Li Xianglan’s ‘Evening Fragrance’

• Bai Guang’s ‘If Living Without You’

• Wu Yingyin’s ‘Spring Comes Back on Earth’ (Dadi huichun)

Major scale with use of chromatic notes

• Wu Yingyin’s ‘Full Moon in Deep Autumn’

• Zhou Xuan’s ‘Good Night’ (Wan’an qu)


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• Yao Min’s ‘Such Shanghai’ (Ruci Shanghai)

Minor scale

• Bai Guang’s ‘What Sort of Night Is Tonight’ (Jinxi hexi)

• Yao Li and Yao Min’s ‘Congratulation’

• Zhang Fan’s ‘Bug Song’ (Chouchong ge)

Gong mode

• Zhou Xuan’s ‘When Will You Come Back Again’

• Gong Qiuxia’s ‘Welcome New Year’ (Huanying xinnian)

Shang mode

• Zhou Xuan’s ‘New Flower Quiz’ (Xin duihua)

• Zhou Xuan’s ‘Seeing Off Elder Brother’ (Song dage)

• Li Lili’s ‘New Song of Fengyang’

Jue mode

• Zhou Xuan’s ‘May Wind’ (Wuyue de feng)

• Hu Die’s ‘Evening Fragrance’ (Yelaixiang)

Zhi mode

• Yao Li’s ‘Selling Lovesickness’

• Zhou Xuan’s ‘Song of Four Seasons’

• Gong Qiuxia’s ‘Beyond the Frosty Water’ (Qiushui yiren)

Yu mode

• Liang Ping’s ‘Spring Has Come, He Hasn’t’


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• Zhou Xuan’s ‘Selling Groceries’

• Yao Li’s ‘On the River Bank Of Qinhuai’

Phrygian mode

• Bai Hong’s ‘Enchanting Lipstick’51

Blues Scale

• Zhou Xuan’s ‘On Two Roads’ (Liang tiao lu shang)

• Bai Guang’s ‘Waiting For You Coming Back’ (Dengzhe ni huilai) 52

Undoubtedly, songs on the Western major scale usually contain the fourth and

seventh scale degrees, and on the minor the second and sixth, i.e., fa and ti, and the

Western heptatonicism in them can also be easily detected. Just like traditional

Chinese music, in which fa, fa-sharp, ti-flat and ti may also occur, there are non-

pentatonic notes in some Shanghai popular songs which are set on the Chinese

pentatonic scale. In a similar manner, altered tones in those songs may either function

as passing notes, auxiliary notes, or result from modulation as discussed earlier in this

chapter. For example, in a passage from Yao Li’s ‘Rose, Rose, I Love You’ the

altered tone fa-sharp is obviously a passing note (Ex.12, I), but in the last six bars of

Gong Qiuxia’s ‘Beyond the Frosty Water’ (Qiushui yiren) ti functions as both

auxiliary and passing notes (Ex.12, II). In Yao Li’s ‘No One Is Not Amorous’ (Nage

bu duoqing), ti is a passing tone, and fa is the result of modulation to the subdominant

key (Ex.12, III).


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Ex.12 Uses of altered tones in Shanghai popular songs

(I) excerpt from Yao Li’s ‘Rose, Rose, I Love You’, bars 9-16 of the

vocal line

(II) excerpt from Gong Qiuxia’s ‘Beyond the Frosty Water’, last six

bars of the vocal line

(III) Yao Li’s ‘No One Is Not Amorous’

However, although we can sometimes immediately identify, in the first few

lines of a song, that it is composed on the Chinese pentatonic scale, the character of

pentatonicism may become blurred and thus as the melodic line moves on our


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judgment turns out to have been incorrect. A possible explanation could be that even

though some Chinese melodic characteristics in a song can be recognised with no

problem, other melodic passages may not be understood in the framework of Chinese

musical tradition. In other words, when a song simultaneously contains Chinese-

flavoured pentatonic phrases, Western phrases and other phrases which have

ambiguous characteristics, it can be difficult to judge whether it is Chinese pentatonic

or is rather a product of Western influences. For example, Zhou Xuan and Yan Hua’s

‘Repeated Advice’ (Dingning), a song written in the 32-bar AABA form, contains

both pentatonic phrases and also some phrases which may be regarded as Western

(Ex.12).

Ex.12 Chinese-styled and equivocal phrases, excerpt from Zhou Xuan and Yan

Hua’ ‘Repeated Advice’, second A and B sections of the vocal line

Whereas in section A the non-pentatonic note fa can be easily explained as a

passing note, in section B it is not satisfactory to apply the same concept to those fa’s


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and ti’s. It would be easier if we assumed that there was a change in composer’s

musical mind when entering section B. Examined through the lens of Western theory,

since this song is sung with the chordal accompaniment of an accordion, the altered

tones together with several other notes in section B can be considered part of some

implied chords. The sequence of chords in section B played on the only

accompanying instrument in the recording may be:

| F – | C – | G7 – | C – | C G6 | G6 – | G – | C – |

Unfortunately, it was impossible to interview any Shanghai pop songwriters

active in the 1930s and 1940s as they had all had died before this study started and

thus their compositional logic is unknown. Therefore, based on the above example, it

can only be speculation that, when composing, a songwriter might either start with a

melodic line on the Chinese scale or whatever seemed to them idiomatically Chinese.

Yet under the influence of Western music available at that period and with an

intention of incorporating new materials into Chinese tunes, he would build up a

melodic passage based on a Western chord sequence in mind, just like some Western

singers who picture a melody when stroking a series of chords on the guitar.

Moreover, the frequent use of altered tones in section B can also be considered

a remarkable contrast to section A. According to Western music theories, as well as

guidance given in books about how to write a successful hit song, the melodic line of

section B in the AABA-form song should be a clear and striking contrast in character

compared to that of section A. Therefore, Shanghai pop songwriters might also have

employed this concept in their compositions. Looking at more songs which are

comprised of two distinct sections to take the AABA or ABA form, two interesting


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types of the use of altered tones are identified, the traditional way and a way to break

pentatonicism.

In some songs, whereas section A is completely composed on the pentatonic

scale without using any altered tone, one or two altered tones may be introduced into

section B. However, the pentatonic framework remains intact and altered tones can

be easily explained within the Chinese musical tradition. For example:

• Li Lihua’s ‘Heaven on Earth’: fa-sharp introduced in B, used as a passing

note

• Pei Ni’s ‘Good Night Doesn’t Last’: fa and ti introduced in B, resulting from

modulation and used as apassing note respectively

• Lang Yuxiu’s ‘Wandering Fallen Petals’ (Piaoling de luohua): fa and ti

introduced in B, both used as passing notes but the later also as an auxiliary

note

• Zhou Xuan’s ‘Cupid’s Arrow’ (Aishen de jian): fa introduced in B as a result

of modulation into the sub-dominant key

In other songs, section A is usually written on the Chinese pentatonic scale

with either no or only one altered tone that does not impair the pentatonicism, but

altered tones such as fa and ti appear more frequently in section B, which drastically

changes the Chinese pentatonicism established in section A into a new system which

features the Western diatonic scale and major-minor tonality. For example:

• Gong Qiuxia’s ‘Roses Blooming Everywhere’: gong-mode scale in A=> the

relative minor scale with the use of the raised seventh scale degree in B


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• Yao Li’s ‘Rose, Rose, I Love You’: gong-mode scale (with fa-sharp as a

passing note) in A => Western major in B

• Yao Li’s ‘Reencounter’ (Chongfeng): gong-mode scale (with ti as a passing

note) in A=> Western major in B

• Zhou Xuan’s, ‘Where Is My True Audience’ (Zhiyin hechu xun): gong-mode

scale in A => Western major in B

In a study of the Beatles’ songs, Naphtali Wagner indicates that due to their

inclination to write pentatonic melodies, the lack of fa and ti in the first few

pentatonic phrases of a song leaves ‘holes’ in the Western diatonic scale, yet those

holes are usually filled later in the song when pentatonicism is broken. Therefore,

Wagner regards the Beatles’ pentatonicism as ‘diatonicism with omission’ and

suggests that the appearance of the missing fa and ti later in the song ‘provides a

refreshing sense of release, especially when other musical factors are involved in

emphasising the event.’53 Taking this theory further, but in a different manner, it can

be argued that the diatonicism featuring the Western major-minor tonality in section B

of the above examples is ‘pentatonicism with expansion’ which provides an

exhilarating feeling to an otherwise monotonous Chinese-styled pentatonic song.

Interestingly, whatever scale a song was composed on and whatever material

was incorporated, in the Shanghai pop industry once a tune was written it was always

performed pristinely in terms of rhythm and pitch. When listening to old recordings

made by American crooners, such as Bing Crosby and Frank Sinatra during the 1930s

and 1940s, no one would fail to notice the elegant style of phrasing and rubato.

Equally no one would dismiss the elaborate vocal improvisation when playing old


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records from the same period by great jazz singers, such as Ella Fitzgerald and Billie

Holiday,. However, none of this is heard in recordings of Shanghai popular songs,

neither in Chinese-styled tunes nor in Western melodies. It seems that a Shanghai

pop singer was expected to sing on the right pitch and to the correct rhythm, precisely

as it was composed. Although a singer might add grace notes or apply subtle

portamento or strong vibrato as stylistic ornamentation, the original melodic pitch and

rhythm was never modified. It is not clear whether Shanghai pop singers were

competent to bend and shape tempo to enhance the expressiveness of a song without

losing track of the basic pulse, or whether they had the skill to give a tune a slight

twist while still conveying the composer’s original intention. Yet it is true that no one

interpreted a song in an extemporaneous manner.

4. Accompanying harmony

In terms of melodic content discussed above, Shanghai popular song may fall

into three groups:

• Chinese-styled song: one that is composed on the Chinese pentatonic scale,

with the pentatonic framework kept intact throughout the whole song even

when altered tones are frequently used.

• Western-styled song: one that is written in the Western heptatonic scale with

clear major-minor tonality.

• Song in the mixed style: one that contains both Chinese-styled and Western-

styled, or equivocal phrases.

These descriptions will be applied in the following discussion of accompanying

harmony.


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From all the historical recordings collected so far for this study, it is found that

the so-called ‘chords’ of the Western triad-based harmony only exist in songs

accompanied by Western instruments. Those that are accompanied only by Chinese

instruments, either adapted from folk tunes, operatic genre or newly composed, are

usually heterophonic in texture, with instrumental parts doubling the vocal line with

freely added fill-in notes and ornamental fragments, as can been seen in traditional

vocal performances. Examples are Wu Yinging’s ‘Spring Sadness’ and Pei Ni’s

‘Good Night Doesn’t Last’. Perhaps because it was just inveterate practice, or an

aesthetic preference of Shanghai pop songwriters and arrangers that Chinese

instruments were only meant to convey Chinese images, no Chinese instruments were

combined to produce Western-styled backing chords. Only songs with Western

instrumental accompaniment are underpinned by functional harmonies. Moreover,

Chinese instruments are only used to accompany Chinese-styled songs and no

Western-styled songs or those in the mixed style are sung to the instrumental

combination of, say, huqin, sanxian and bangzi.

It might therefore be said that perhaps under the influence of some musicians

such as Liu Tianhua, who had promoted as early as the 1920s to arrange and perform

Chinese instrumental music in the form of a Western symphony orchestra (guoyue

jiaoxianghua, literally ‘symphonising national music’), a touch of Western

compositional techniques may be felt in a few songs, for instance, Li Lihua’s ‘Heaven

On Earth’ and Zhou Xuan’s ‘Selling Groceries’.54 However, although the Western

musical concept is introduced into song arrangement to create a musical texture that

seems to be distinct from what He Lüting described as ‘big packing of tune’ (da

baoqiang), the result is still far from the Western harmony accompaniment.55 The

most that may be expected is only an extra instrumental line, not a chordal sequence


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underlying the tune. For example, the tune in Yao Li’s ‘You Are Unwanted’, was

originally a folk song from Xinjiang, and although the huqin doubles the vocal line in

the first verse and then plays an independent melodic line in the second and third to

add some variety (Ex.13), no other instrument joins in to produce harmony

accompaniment.

Ex.13 Independent accompanying melodic line, excerpt from Yao Li’s

‘You Are Unwanted’, first 8 bars of verse 2

The contrapuntal design of instrumental accompaniment can also been seen in

Zhou Xuan’s ‘The Wandering Songstress’ and ‘The Song of Four Seasons’, both of

which were adapted and arranged by He Lüting. Once, in an interview, he

emphasised that his two-part counterpoint in these two songs was widely different

from Chinese music traditions. However, even though this was innovative in the

domain of Chinese music, the contrapuntal design does not follow the rules which

were observed in the common practice period of Western classical music. For

example, in the introduction of ‘The Wandering Songstress’, the treble and the bass

lines are not coherently combined by adherence to the rules of voice-leading

predicated on the distinction between ‘consonance and dissonance’, but are merely


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two ‘independent’ lines. When the singing starts, the bass still plays an ‘independent’

line, against the treble line which doubles the vocal line in a Chinese heterophonic

manner (Ex.14).56

Ex.14 He Lüting’s contrapuntal design, excerpt from Zhou Xuan’s ‘The

Wandering Songstress’, introduction and the first 4 bars of the vocal line

Unlike Chinese instruments, any combination of Western instruments is

employed to accompany either Chinese- or Western-style songs and those songs in the

mixed style. It seems that when, for example, piano, double bass, trumpet, clarinet

and some percussion are brought together, harmony accompaniment must be

produced. Even when a single instrument is arranged to double the vocal line in a

song, the other instruments in the band still have to support the whole performance

with backing chords. In the collection of historical recordings no songs performed to

the Western instrumental accompaniment have so far been found to be heterophonic

in texture.

In a Chinese-style song, while altered tones would not take essential positions

in the melodic skeleton, fa and ti cannot be avoided when the dominant (or dominant


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seventh) and the subdominant chords, which are two of the three primary chords in

functional harmony, not to mention other secondary and related chords, are to be used

in the accompaniment. A similar situation occurs when singing pentatonic Celtic

songs in harmony. Malcolm Chapman argues that when arrangements for traditional

Gaelic songs for several voices are to be performed a cappella by Gaelic choirs,

‘pentatonic tunes of great beauty are de-natured’ by Western classical harmonic

structures based on the twelve-note equal-tempered scale. In Chapman’s view, as

pentatonicism and functional harmony are two essentially incompatible systems,

‘much is lost in the translation from one to another.’57 Nevertheless, the level of what

he describes as ‘denaturation’ is less serious in the case of Shanghai popular song.

Unlike rearranged Gaelic choral pieces performed by the interwoven voices singing

the different parts, since those Chinese-styled songs are not ‘sung’ in harmony, the

audience can still bask in the ‘beauty’ of pentatonicism conveyed through the one-part

vocal lines, even though Western chords in the instrumental accompaniment may be a

distraction.

The jazzman and bandleader Buck Clayton once had to play Chinese popular

songs in the Casa Nova Ballroom (Xinhua wuting) after being expelled from the first-

class Canidrom Ballroom (Yiyuan wuting) where he only played real American jazz.

He commented that Chinese popular music

wasn’t too much different from our own music except the Chinese have a

different scale note, but as long as it could be written in on the American

scale it could be played.58

Although Clayton did not indicate the songs and how he actually played in Casa

Nova, it was obviously pentatonic tunes that he was referring to and, moreover, it is

possible to gauge how he accommodated himself to Chinese songs based on some


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historical recordings. When ignoring the distinctive nature of pentatonicism but

treating Chinese melodies similarly to those on major or minor Western scales,

Chinese-styled songs can be easily accompanied by only three primary chords. Most

of the melody notes will be either part of the accompanying chords or very close by.

Taking Li Minghui’s ‘Drizzles’ as an example, the underlying chords basically

alternate between the tonic and the dominant, with the subdominant used only once in

bar 8 (Ex.15). The use of the first inversion of the dominant (V6) and the second of

the subdominant (IV64), together with the root of the tonic (I), also offers a hint of the

Alberti bass, a kind of broken chord usually found in pieces for keyboard instruments

in Western classical music (Ex.16).

Ex.15 Li Minghui’s ‘Drizzles’, accompanying chords of the first half of

the vocal line

Ex.16 Implied Alberti bass in ‘Drizzles’

Two more points in this song are worth attention. First, the first three bars of

introduction, which have the same melodic phrase as that of the vocal line, are played

in unison by all instruments, including clarinet, trumpet, trombone, piano and violin.


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Second, the vocal line is doubled up by the clarinet throughout the whole piece, and

unlike those songs accompanied by Chinese instruments, no fill-in notes or

ornamental fragments are added on the duplicated melodic line. The opening three

bars of ‘big packing of tune’ and the supporting clarinet line could either be a

transition between the Chinese heterophonic and Western harmonic accompaniment

or a device purposely designed to strengthen the overall pentatonic impression.

Therefore, although Western instruments and chords are employed, a trace of Chinese

musical practice can still be detected.

Apart from the primary I, IV and V chords, other chords are also used

according to common chord progression patterns to add richness and variety to

harmony accompaniment. For example, against the vocal line of Zhou Xuan’s ‘Full

Moon and Blooming Flowers’, the familiar I-II-V-I sequence is heard in the first four

bars, and the cadential progression I6-II6-V-I, which is obviously more ‘sophisticated’

than the I-V6-I in ‘Drizzles’, is used to conclude the phrase (Ex.17). However, unlike

‘Drizzles’, there is neither ‘big packing of tune’ nor any supporting instrument

duplicating the vocal line in this song.

Ex.17 Zhou Xuan’s ‘Full Moon and Blooming Flowers’, accompanying

chords of first 8 bars of the vocal line

In Yao Li’s ‘Rose, Rose, I Love You’, as opposed to the former two examples,

more intricate chords are incorporated. This song takes the AABAA form, with A

composed of pentatonic phrases and B of Western-styled melodies. As shown in

Ex.18, although the accompanying chords basically moves between I and V in section


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A, the IV64 and II chords are applied respectively in bars 22 and 24 in accordance with

the melodic movement and the chords move from the dominant through the dominant

of III to the III in bars 27 and 28. It appears that the fragment which contains the

altered tone fa-sharp opens up a passage through which more colours from the

Western harmonic palette can be introduced to the pentatonic canvas. In section B,

although the first melodic line is almost identical to the second, except that the latter

falls on the tonic at the end of the phrase while the former on the supertonic, the chord

progressions of the two lines are arranged in a different manner. In the first line it

goes through the III and IV and changes every beat before arriving at the dominant in

bar 34 and then alternates among the primary chords every beat before coming back

to the tonic in bar 38. In the second, it moves straight to the dominant but returns to

the tonic in bar 46 through the II. The first line concludes on the dominant of VI

whereas the second, the final note of which lasts twice as long as that of the first,

lingers on the II-V chord change at the end.

Ex.18 Yao Li’s ‘Rose, Rose, I Love You’, accompanying chords of

second A and B sections


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There seems to be no major difference between the ways Western chords are

used to accompany Chinese pentatonic phrases and Western-styled melodies. As

song arrangers or session musicians were not confined within the limitations of

pentatonicism if Western chords were to be employed, it completely depended on

their own aesthetic preferences or musical capabilities whether only primary chords,

or more chords and sophisticated chord progressions, were to be applied.

Undoubtedly, the incorporation of secondary chords (II, III and VI) and secondary

dominants (for example, V/III and V/VI) enriched the harmonic language and the

dynamic of tension and release in the accompaniment. However, as Wei Jun

indicates, some members who played the piano or guitar in radio singing clubs in the

1930s and 1940s hardly knew anything more than the I, IV and V chords, so they

would play only the primary chords to accompany almost any song.59 Fro example, in

Yao Li’s ‘Rose, Rose, I Love You’, we hear a more colourful harmonic texture, while

in ‘Lovesickness For Sale’, Yao’s first recorded song, we can only hear the same use

of primary chords and Chinese heterophonic texture as that in ‘Drizzles’.

Nevertheless, although triad and seventh chords and their inversions can be widely

heard in songs accompanied by Western instruments, other extended chords, such as

the ninth, eleventh and thirteenth chords, are rarely used.

5. Words

In many studies of ‘song’, be it folk, art or popular, verbal text is always one

of the key subjects to be explored, from the sheer textual analysis of the verbal

content, through the investigation of how lyrics reflect a social phenomenon, to how

the sentiments embedded in the lyrics can be conveyed through the music. 60

Similarly, there are many aspects from which we can study words of Shanghai


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popular songs. Following the earlier detailed explanation of ‘tones and tunes’ in

Chinese traditional vocal works, the discussion here draws particular attention to the

relationship between the tones of Chinese syllables in the lyrics and the melodic

contours in music.

Chinese vocal artists from generation to generation had made their sung words

comprehensible to the audience through carefully designed melodic contours and with

techniques, such as bending the melodic line and adding grace notes. However these

musical devices were simply dismissed in ‘new’ vocal works, such as school song and

children’s musical drama, which came into existence before the creation of Shanghai

popular song. As mentioned in Chapter One, school songs, developed by intellectual

groups in the early 1900s for classroom use, were based either on Euro-American

melodies introduced to China through Christian hymns and military marches, or on

Japanese materials brought back by those who had studied in Japan. Since these tunes

were not originally composed for singing with lyrics in the Chinese language, nor

were tones taken into consideration when Chinese lyrics were written to them, it may

be argued that school songs were new to Chinese people at the turn of the twentieth

century, not only from the perspective of the musical style but also in view of the fact

that the age-old tonal rules in songwriting were dismissed. 61

Two decades later, children’s musical drama was presented to the public by Li

Jinhui. It was one of Li’s intentions to teach primary school pupils Standard

Mandarin through singing, yet the important tonal features of the Chinese language

were surprisingly not addressed in his musical works. Li recalled in his memoir that

his proposition to employ music in language education was grounded on the notion

that pitch movement of the four tones in Mandarin could be represented with musical

pitches.62 However, listening to songs in his musicals, one can hardly discover any


265

clear correlation between tonal and melodic contours. For example, in the well-

known ‘Tiger Calling at the Door’ (Laohu jiaomen) from the The Sparrow and the

Child (Maque yu xiaohai), the lyrics are written neither according to a classical poetic

tonal pattern nor in consideration of tonal practices in traditional vocal art. Although

Li maintained that students could learn proper Mandarin pronunciation by correctly

articulating every syllable in a song, they must have acquired the correct tone of each

syllable before singing it because there is generally no agreement between the

melodic movement and the tone contours. Tones in language were still ignored when

Li turned to the creation of love songs for commercial purposes in the late 1920s, and

‘atonal’ composition has become common in Shanghai popular songs ever since.

In Shanghai popular song, as lexical tones are ignored to allow more melodic

freedom, the lyric intelligibility is reduced. This may explain why subtitles were

always provided on the screen when songs were played in films, and why fans in the

1930s and 1940s, as described in Chapter Four, were so keen on collecting lyrics from

newspapers, magazines and songbooks and even carried a torch to the cinema to jot

down the lyrics. One may well argue that fans collected lyrics only to build up their

own lyric library of hit songs rather than search for the correct words, yet this does

not answer why they failed to learn the lyrics simply by listening to gramophone

records or radio programmes, delivered through loudspeakers everywhere in ‘main

streets and narrow alleys’. It is the high degree of homophony in Chinese, and its

tone-dependency in distinguishing lexical meanings among homophones, that

hampers the correct recognition of all the words in lyrics.

For example, in ‘Praise of Laughter’ (Xiao de zanmei), the first two syllables

in the first line, xiao /51/ shi /51/ (‘laughter is’), may be misheard as xiao /55/ shi /55/

(‘disappear’), and the last two of the second line, xin /51/ shi /214/ (‘messenger’), as


266

xin /55/ shi /51/ (‘load on mind’, or literally ‘mind’s matter’) (Ex.19). In this piece,

melodic contours do not help the audience pick up the correct tones of these syllables,

nor do grace notes offer any hint. Despite the fact that the grace notes in bar 3

correctly imply a falling tone contour /51/ for the syllable, those in bar 7 simply make

the wrong impression, causing /214/ to be mistaken for /51/. Apparently, grace notes

here do not function as those in traditional ballad singing but they are just ornamental

in nature. Therefore, it is not surprising if some of the audience distorted ‘Laughter is

a happy prelude/ Laughter is a happy messenger’ into ‘A disappearing prelude/

Laughter is a sweet load on mind’. A listener must have been confused as to how the

‘disappearing prelude’ was connected to ‘laughter’ if the words were understood in

this fashion and no other alternative interpretation sprang immediately to mind.

Nevertheless, syllables that were not uttered in right tones were not always

completely indecipherable to, or misread by, native speakers. Without written lyrics

at hand, listeners could still to a degree, with the knowledge of their mother tongue,

grasp the meaning of some of the words.

Ex.19 Misinterpreted homophones in the lyrics, excerpt from Zhou

Xuan’s ‘Praise of Laughter’, first 8 bars of the vocal line


267

Interestingly, as opposed to the mismatch between tones and tunes in Shanghai

popular song, the pitch contours and relative pitch levels used in the Cantonese dialect

are taken into consideration and reflected in the melodic line in modern Cantonese

songwriting.63 Cantonese popular song, also known as Cantopop in the Western

literature, came into existence in Hong Kong in the mid 1970s, nearly half a century

later than the emergence of Shanghai popular song, when there was a growing

demand among the younger generation for popular song in their own dialect.64 In

Hong Kong, Shanghai popular songs and other Mandarin Chinese works of the

similar style produced there after 1949 dominated the pop market until the advent of

Cantonese popular song. The only vocal music performed in Cantonese was

Cantonese opera, in which, much the same as in other traditional vocal forms, the

convention requires that the undulating musical line echoes the pitch movement of

lexical tones. This convention is preserved in Cantopop, making the carefully

matched tonal and melodic contours a distinctive feature of modern Cantonese song.

Although there are only four basic pitch levels in Cantonese (the earlier mentioned

nine tones are results of pitch movement and sound clipping over a syllable), tunes of

Cantonese popular song are written with more than four notes in a scale. Words can

still be comprehensible to the audience, even when tone contours do not precisely

match the melodic line or when characters of the same tone level are set on different

scale degrees, as long as the relative height between pitch levels of lexical tones is

maintained within a sentence or verse line.65 Therefore, Cantopop songwriters are

able to adopt an ordinal mapping between musical notes and pitch levels rather than

mechanically assign each pitch level to a specific invariable scale degree, so that both

the intelligibility of lexical tones in the lyrics and the melodious and tuneful quality of

the song can be equally addressed.66


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This study has so far not located any study investigating how much Mandarin-

speaking listeners would understand the lyrics of a Chinese song when most of the

syllables are sung out of their lexical tones, some observable facts can shed some light

on this subject. In a sense, the issue of understanding Chinese lyrics sung out of tone

can be compared to occasions when one has to make sense of ‘atonal’ Chinese words

uttered by a foreigner. When conversing with a foreigner who does not distinguish

between tones, a native Chinese speaker may be able to interpret out-of-tone words

according to the context of the conversation, just as a native English speaker may

manage to understand a non-native speaker who stresses the wrong syllables in words.

By the early 1930s Standard Mandarin had been taught in all levels of educational

institutions and widely used in films, broadcasting and stage plays, so it would not be

a problem for most people to comprehend this language although it might be

reasonable to assume that not everyone spoke it in a ‘standard’ manner and without

any regional accent. Therefore, lyrics in Shanghai popular songs could be understood

by most of the audience to a certain degree even though the conventional tonal rules

in songwriting were no longer observed. However, the extent to which all the words

in a song could be recognised by listeners depended on how ‘plain’ those words were

or how educated the listeners were. Generally speaking, the more the lyrics were in

written or literary language, particularly in classical Chinese, the less the sung words

could be understood. To give an extreme example, due to its exceptionally

abbreviated style and frequent use of literary references and allusions, it required

some considerable effort to decipher Classical Chinese texts, such as Confucian

Analects, let alone understand them in sung form where tones of syllables were

dismissed in favour of musicality. In addition to the writing style, listeners’ own

literacy skill decided how well they could appreciate the content of lyrics. Those who


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had neither received proper education nor developed reading proficiency would have

problems in understanding words only used in formal writing, not to mention phrases

originating from classical works, and thus it was not easy for them to catch every line

of the lyrics on hearing a song.

Due to the tonal nature of the Chinese language, without the functional use of

grace notes and proper design of melodic lines to match lexical tones no matter how

elegant and flowing the words in Shanghai popular songs, there is always a possibility

that the audience misunderstand what the content of songs are about. When

separated, the tunes and lyrics of Shanghai popular song may be as charming as

praised by elderly fans and some enthusiastic younger aficionados nowadays.

However, when singing words to the tune, some of songs may appear to be

incomprehensible although some can be understood with proper knowledge of the

language.

Nowadays it is not uncommon to hear elderly people complain that tunes of

contemporary Chinese popular music sung by young pop idols are so unmelodious

and the lyrics so improperly articulated that they are utterly incomprehensible.

Nevertheless, no matter how precisely a singer enunciates in a recording of Shanghai

popular song, when tones do not match the tune, words may be utterly

incomprehensible as well.

Endnotes

1 John Baily, ‘The role of music in the creation of an Afghan national identity’, in

Martin Stokes (ed.), Ethnicity, Identity ad Music: the Musical Construction of Place

(Oxford: Berg, 1994), pp. 45-60.


270

2 Zdzislaw Mach, ‘National anthems: the case of Chopin as a national composer’, in

Martin Stokes (ed.), Ethnicity, Identity ad Music: the Musical Construction of Place

(Oxford: Berg, 1994), pp. 61-70.

3 See Allen, Ray and Nancy Groce, ‘Introduction: folk and traditional music in New

York State’, in New York Folklore 14:3-4 (1988), p. 4.

4 Mozart’s ‘Turkish March’ is the third movement, titled Rondo Alla Turca, from his

Piano Sonata in A major, K. 331, which imitates the military march music of Turkish

Janissaries. The music was once very popular with the Viennese during the 17th and

18th centuries and many composers in all parts of Europe wrote alla turca passages or

pieces. See Stanley Sadie (ed), The New Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians,

Vol. 19 (London: Macmillan, 1980), p. 258.

5 John Blacking, How Musical Is Man (London: University of Washington Press,

1974), p.6.

6 Csárdás is a traditional Hungarian folk dance, starting in a very slow and ending in a

very fast tempo. This piece is originally composed for violin and piano by an Italian

violinist and composer, Vittorio Monti (1868-1922), whose name seems to be much

less remembered than his work. A fiddler, Wen Chin-Lung, reinterpreted this piece

on his Chinese two-string huqin to the accompaniment of midi-synthesised music.

The recording is available on Chin-Lung Wen, Erhu chuanshuo(The legend of erhu

fiddle), 2002, BMG (Taiwan), Audio CD, 74321373922.

7 I have demonstrated the modified Scottish tune to a few Western colleagues on

several informal occasions, and all of them indicated that the twisted melody did give

them an impression of Chinese music. This observation should not be regarded as a


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general view of ‘Westerners’, yet it illustrates to certain degree that Chineseness in

the modified sequence of notes is identifiable.

8 Frederick William Gaisberg, The Music Goes Round (New York: Macmillan, 1942;

repr. New York: Arno Press, 1977), pp. 62-3. Gaisberg came to Shanghai in 1903 and

started recording Chinese music through the arrangement of local agents.

9 Henry Ellis, Journal of the Proceedings of the Late Embassy to China (London:

John Murray, 1817; reprint, Wilmington, Del.: Scholarly Resources, 1972), p. 418.

10 Hector Berlioz, Evenings with the Orchestra, trans. Jacques Barzun (New York:

Alfred A. Knof, 1956), p. 248. Although Berlioz had never been to China, when

visiting London in 1851 he heard Chinese music performed in the Great Exhibition by

native Chinese musicians from China.

11 William Tyrone Power, Recollections of a Three Years’ Residence in China;

Including Peregrinations in Spain, Morocco, Egypt, India, Australia, and New-

Zealand (London: Richard Bentley, 1853), pp. 191-2.

12 Berlioz, Evenings with the Orchestra, pp. 247, 249-50.

13 Ellis, Journal of the Proceedings, p. 130. The Chinese instrument yangqin,

originally from Persia, is a trapezium-shaped hammered dulcimer fitted with bronze

strings.

14 Power, Recollections, pp. 282-3.

15 For example Joseph-Marie Amiot, Mémoire sur la musique des chinois (Paris:

Nyon l’aîné, 1779; reprint, Genève: Minkoff, 1973); G. Tradescant Lay, The Chinese

As They Are: Their Moral, Social, and Literary Character; with Succinct Views of

Their Principal Arts and Sciences (London : W. Ball and Co., 1841; reprint, Boston


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Elibron Classics, 2005); Edward W. Syle, ‘On the musical notation of the Chinese’,

Journal of the North-China Branch of the Royal Asiatic Society 2 (1859), 176-179.

For a succinct review of the work undertaken by these missionaries, see Krystyn R.

Moon, Yellow Face: Creating the Chinese in American Popular Music and

Performances, 1850s-1920s (London: Rutgers University Press, 2005), pp. 89-90.

16 J. A. van Aalst, Chinese Music (Shanghai: Statistical Department of the

Inspectorate General of Customs, 1884; reprint, New York: Paragon Book Reprint

Corp, 1964), p. 84. For more biographical accounts of Aalst and how such a book on

Chinese music was published by ‘order of Inspector General of Customs’, as stated in

its title page, refer to Han Kuo-huang, ‘J. A. van Aalst and his Chinese Music’, Asian

Music, 19:2 (1988), pp. 127-30.

17 For a detailed study of the chinoiserie style, refer to Dawn Jacobson, Chinoiserie

(London: Phaidon Press, 1993); for examples of piano works of Western composers’

imagery from the nineteenth to twentieth centuries, such as Rossini, Arensky and

Busoni, refer to an interesting Jenny Lin Chinoiserie, 2000, BIS, Audio CD, 1046189.

18 Moon, Yellow Face, pp. 94-5.

19 Ibid., p. 96. These descriptions, from the column ‘Music Comment’ in New York

Tribune and a press review of an unknown source, were given to a play titled The

First Born produced by Francis Powers in 1897 and a song in this play, ‘Chinese

Highbinder Patrol’, written by Lee Johnson.

20 Edgar W. Pope, ‘Signifying China: exoticism in prewar Japanese popular music’, in

Tôru Mitsui (ed.) Popular Music: Intercultural Interpretations (Kanazawa, Japan:

Graduate Program in Music, Kanazawa University, 1998), p. 114. ‘Shanghai March’


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(Shanhai kôshinkyoku), composed and arranged by Matsudaira Nobuhiro, lyrics by

Yamada Hiroshi, vocal by Hagoromo Utako, Japan Victor 51962 (1931); The Good

Earth, directed by Sidney Franklin, Metro-Golden-Mayer (1937). Music of Ex.2, I

and II quoted as in Pope, ‘Signifying China’, p. 120; EX.2, III excerpted from Jean

Schwarz and William Jerome, ‘Chinatown, My Chinatown’ (New York & Detroit:

Jerome H. Remick & Co., 1910).

21 See ‘Wei Linggong v. 10 ’ and ‘Yang Huo v. 18’ in Lunyu (The analects of

Confucius), my own translation.

22 ‘Yueji’ (Record of music) in Liji (Book of rite), translation quoted from James

Legge (trans.) The Sacred Books of China: the Texts of Confucianism, Pt. 4 (Oxford:

Clarendon Press, 1885), retrieved at Internet Sacred Text Archive

<http://www.sacred-texts.com/cfu/liki2/liki217.htm>, accessed 5 February 2006.

23 For an introduction to Confucian musical philosophy, see Alan R. Thrasher, ‘The

sociology of Chinese music: an introduction’, Asian Music, 12:2 (1981), pp. 17-53.

24 The Chinese government today officially recognises a total of fifty-six ethnic

groups. According to ethnomusicological surveys, there are roughly two hundred

kinds of musical instruments still in use, and two hundred types of ballad-singing and

four hundred of traditional operas still performed amongst different ethnic groups in

different areas. Zhongguo yishu yanjiuyuan yinyue yanjiusuo, Minzu yinyue gailun

(An introduction to Chinese ethnic music) (Taipei: Shijie wenwu chubanshe, 1994),

pp. 139, 201, 276.


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25 For detailed discussion on polyphonic folk songs of Chinese minorities, see Fan

Zuyin, Zhongguo duoshengbu minge gailun (An outline of Chinese polyphonic folk

songs) (Beijing: Remin yinyue chubanshe, 1994).

26 A sizhu ensemble primarily consists of plucked and bowed strings, wind

instruments and percussion. For more details about the composition of sizhu music,

see Thrasher, Alan R., ‘The melodic structure of Jiangnan sizhu’, Ethnomusicology,

29 (1985), 237-63. The music example shows the first two bars of a well known

piece, ‘Street Parade’ (Xingjie), as quoted in ibid., p. 242.

27 The aria is titled ‘The Ninth Sister in My Family’ (Wojia yiu ge xiaojiumei), as

quoted in Yang Ruiqing, Zhongguo minge xuanlü xingtai (The melodic patterns of

Chinese folk songs) (Shanghai: Shanghai yinyue chubanshe, 2002), p. 153. For more

explanations of several patterns used by fiddlers in accompanying folk songs, see ibid.

pp. 152-3.

28 Music examples quoted from Zhang Xiaohu Wushengxing diaoshi ji hesheng

shoufa (Pentatonic modes and harmonic techniques) (Beijin: Remin yinyue

chubanshe), pp. 30-31, 33-4.

29 Bence Szabolcsi, A History of Melody, trans. Cynthia Jolly and Sára Karig (London:

Barrie and Rockliff, 1965).

30 James J. Y. Liu, The Art of Chinese Poetry (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul,

1962), p. 21.

31 These eight tones are yingping, yangping, yingshang, yangshang, yingqu, yangqu,

yingru and yangru. It should be noted that the English translation of these tone names

used in the linguistic literature does not imply the actual tone contours.


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32 If using numbers to represent the way pitch moves over a syllable, the lowest being

1 and the highest being 5, a system proposed by a Chinese linguist, Chao Yuen-Ren,

the yinqu tone in Shanghai dialect and Cantonese can be represented as /13/ and /22/

respectively, and the qu tone /51/ in Standard Mandarin.

33 For more linguistic features and issues of some major Chinese dialects, refer to

William S-Y Wang, Languages and Dialect of China (Berkeley, Cali.: Project on

Linguistic Analysis, 1991); for specific details of the tone sandhi phenomenon in

Chinese dialects, see Mathew Y. Chen, Tone Sandhi: Patterns Across Chinese

Dialects (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000).

34 The ‘modern style verse’, also known as ‘Tang poetry’ (tangshi), developed and

reached its peak in the Tang dynasty (618-907), being named so in contrast to the

‘ancient verse’ (gushi) emerging in the Han Dynasty (206 BC-AD 219) written

without a tone pattern. The ‘lyric metres’ and the ‘dramatic verse’ are the most

predominant forms of literature in the Song Dynasty (960-1278) and the Yuan

Dynasty (1260-1341) respectively. For a succinct introduction to the metrical rules

and development of various forms of Chinese classical peotry, refer to Liu, The Art of

Chinese Poetry, pp. 22-33.

35 For an interesting discussion on how inflection in speech may have developed into

‘speech-melody’ and gradually formed tunes, see Szabolsci, A History of Melody, pp.

11-27.

36 Some tunes are known as qupai, literally ‘song label’ (best translated as ‘name

song’, according to Alan R. Thrasher). These tunes originate from various genres,

such as folk songs, instrumental repertoires or tunes originally composed for ‘lyric


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metres’ and ‘dramatic verse’, and may be shared among different genres. For an

introduction to the historical development and stylistic characteristic of qupai, see

Gao Houyong, ‘On qupai’, Asian Music, 20:2 (1989), pp. 4-20; for instrumental qupai

specifically of the sizhu repertoire, see Thrasher, ‘The melodic structure of Jiangnan

sizhu’, pp. 237-63.

37 The music and Chinese text is quoted as in Zhongguo yishu yanjiuyuan, Minzu

yinyue gailun, p. 256. For more details of a clear correlation between lexical tones

and the design of melodic contours in kunqu, see Wu Junda, Kunqu changqiang

yanjiu (A study on the singing style and melody of kunqu) (Beijing: Remin yinyue

chubanshe, 1987), ch. 5.

38 The passage is an excerpt from ‘Baoyu Visits the Sick’ (Baoyu tangbing). The

music and Chinese text are quoted as in Zhongguo yishu yanjiuyuan, Minzu yinyue

gailun, p. 168.

39 This example draws from personal experience with gezaixi opera in childhood and

only serves for an illustrative purpose. For more discussions on the relationship

between tones and music in Taiwanese vocal works, refer to Ding-Sng Tzang, ‘Taiyu

shengdiao yu taiyu geyao’ (Tones in Taiwanese and Taiwanese folk songs), in Lin

Songyuan (ed.), Taiwan minjian wenxue xueshu yantaohui lunwen ji (Proceedings of

the symposium on Taiwanese folk literature) (Zhanghua, Taiwan: Taiwansheng

huangxi wenhua xuehui, 1997), pp. 427-447.

40 It was not until 1936 that the first book-length study of the relation between lexical

tones and melodic contours in Chinese music carried out by a Westerner was

published – John Hazedel Levis, Foundations of Chinese Musical Art (Peiping


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[Beijing]: Henri Vetch, 1936). For a comprehensive introduction to the different

functions of the pitch of voice performing in the Chinese language, prosody and

music, written especially for Western readers, see Yuen-ren Chao, ‘Tone, intonation,

singsong, chanting, recitative, tonal composition, and atonal composition in Chinese’

in Morris Hale, Horace Gray Lunt, Hugh McLean & Cornelis Hendrik Van

Schooneveld (eds) For Roman Jakobson: Essays on the Occasions of His Sixtieth

Birthday (the Hague: Mouton, 1956), pp. 52-9.

41 For more detailed discussion on differences in Chinese and Western vocal

techniques, see Zhou Xiaoyan ‘Zhongguo shengyue yishu de fazhan guiji’ (Tracing

the development of Chinese vocal art) in Liu Ching-chih and Barbara Fei (eds),

Papers and Proceedings of Two Seminars on Vocal Music in China (Hong Kong:

University of Hong Kong, Centre of Asian Studies, 1998), pp. 3-22 and Hu Yuqing,

‘Meisheng minzu changfa yitong tanwei’ (An initial investigation into similarities and

dissimilarities between bel canto and ethnical singing), Journal of Sichuan Normal

University (Philocophy & Social Sciences), 5 (2000), pp. 60-62.

42 Eileen Chang, ‘Tan yinyue’ (On music) in Eileen Chang, Liuyan (Written on water)

(Taipei: Huangguan chubanshe, 1991), p. 220.

43 Li Minhui was born in 1909 and the recording (Shanghai Pathé 34278 A & B) is

estimated to be recorded in 1933, and certainly no earlier than 1930.

44 The score of ‘Downstairs The Jade Tower’, arranged by Xu himself, was published

in Mingxing Banyuekan, 3:2 (November 1935), n.p. Unfortunately, neither the

recording nor original score of ‘Happy Village Girl’ is available. The introduction of


278

Xu’s instrumentation is given in Liuli, ‘Shenglong huohu de jieshao’ (Introducing

Extremely Forceful), Mingxing banyuekan (1937), n.p.

45 Zhengxie Hunansheng Xiangtanshi weiyuanhui wenshi ziliao yanjiu weiyuanhui

and Hunan Xiangtan Li Jinhui yishuguan, Li Jinhui (Li Jinhui) (Hunan, China, 1994),

pp. 101-2. Historically, hu and qiang both refer, with derogatory implication, to the

northern tribes in China and thus huqing and qiangdi are the fiddle and the flute of the

northern barbarians respectively.

46 Liner note, Zhongguo Shanghai sansishi niandai jueban mingqu wu (Deleted 30-

40s hits of Shanghai China, vol.5), 2003, Ancient Sound Restore, Audio CD, ASR-

28122003.

47 Personal interview with Zhao Jiying, the former leader of Great China New Music

Band (Dahua xin yinyuedui) in Cosmo Dance Hall (Gaoshiman wuting), Shanghai, 29

December 2003.

48 According to an interview with Li Jinguang, the composer of this song, by Shuijing.

See Shuijing, ‘Li Jinguang tan liuxing laoge’ (Li Jinguang on old popular song),

Lianhebao, 22-23 December 1988.

49 ‘Man On the Flying Trapeze’, was originally published in the form of sheet music

in London in 1867. ‘Cheek To Cheek’ was written by Irving Berlin and first

performed by Fred Astaire in the 1935 movie Top Hat. ‘On The Atchison, Topeka

And The Santa Fe’ was written for the 1946 movie Harvey Girls and sung by Judy

Garland. The tune of ‘The Maine Stein Song’ was originally a march, ‘Opie’,

composed by E. A. Fenstad in 1904 and later became a song with lyrics written by


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Lincoln Colcord in 1910. ‘China Night’ was composed by Takeoka Nobuyuki for the

Japanese film with the same title.

50 According to the composer Li Jinguang, this song was forwarded to him by the

Indonesian wife of a recording manager, M. Bernard, of EMI-Pathé in Shanghai in

1943. See Shuijing ‘Li Jinguang tan liuxing laoge’ (Li Jinguang on old popular

songs), Liangebao, 22 December 1988. Although this song may well be a folk song

or something popular in Indonesia during that period, Li and Shuijing are both wrong

in referring to it as the national anthem of Malaysia.

51 This piece is arranged in the Spanish zarzuela style, particularly with the use of

castanets, and has so far been found in the historical recordings to be the only work

that is written in the Phrygian mode.

52 The blues scale here only refers to the use of the ‘blue note’, i.e., the minor third

and the flattened seventh, in a song when it is obviously written in the Western

heptatonic scale, but does not imply that the song is in the ‘blues’ style. For more

discussion on the ‘blue note’, see Hans Weisethaunet, ‘Is there such as thing as the

“blue note”?’, Popular Music, 20:1 (2001), pp. 99-116.

53 Wagner, Naphtali, ‘Fixing a hole in the scale: suppressed notes in the Beatles’

songs’, Popular Music, 23:3 (2004), pp. 257-69. Wagner considers these missing

notes ‘suppressed notes’, which are notes consistently left out of the collection of

pitch classes, or the scale, in a musical piece and later appear with considerable

emphasis.

54 For more about Liu Tianhua’s life account and work, refer to Wang, Zhongguo

jinxiandai yinyue shi, pp. 95-99.


280

55 ‘Big packing of tune’ refers to the Chinese traditional way of accompanying – all

instruments in an ensemble follow the main melody of a song. This expression is

seen in Zhou Wei and Chang Jing, Wo de mama Zhou Xuan (My mother Zh Xuan)

(Taiyuan: Shanxi jiaoyu chubanshe, 1987), p. 3.

56 Archive interview clip shown in Yibai nian de gesheng (official English title: The

Last Century Pop Music of China), a four-series documentary first broadcast on

Channel 10, China Central Television, 22~25 January 2004.

57 See Malcolm Chapman, ‘Thoughts on Celtic music’, in Martin Stokes (ed.),

Ethnicity, Identity ad Music: the Musical Construction of Place (Oxford: Berg, 1994),

p. 41.

58 See Buck Clayton, Buck Clayton’s Jazz World (Oxford: Oxford University Press,

1987), p. 76.

59 Personal interview with Wei Jun, former pianist at a singing club, Shanghai, 20

February 2004.

60 To name a few examples, Hughson F. Mooney, ‘Popular music since the 1920’s:

the significance of shifting taste’, American Quarterly, 20:1 (1968), pp. 67-85; James

T. Carey, ‘Changing courtship patterns in the popular song’, American Journal of

Sociology, 74:6 (1969), pp. 720-31; Allen Forte, ‘Secret of melody: line and design in

the songs of Cole Porter’, Musical Quarterly, 77:4 (1993), pp. 607-47; S. I. Hayakawa,

‘Popular songs v.s. the facts of life’, ETC: A General Review of Semantics, 12 (1995),

pp. 83-95.

61 The tonal rules in songwriting were also neglected in ‘art songs’, which were

composed by academy-trained musicians and set to poems written by intellectuals. In


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most Chinese art songs created in the 1930s and 1940s, tones of syllables are not

observed by the composer in setting a syllable to more than one music note; in an

opposite fashion, melodic directions opposing the pitch movement of syllable tones

appear more frequently than those following them. See Chang-Yang Kuo, Chinese

Art Song: A Melodic Analysis (Taipei: Hwa Kang Press, College of Chinese Culture,

1972), p. 198.

62 Zhengxie Hunansheng Xiangtanshi weiyuanhui wenshi ziliao yanjiu weiyuanhui, Li

Jinhui (Li Jinhui) (Hunan, China, 1994), pp. 100-1.

63 See Marjorie K. M. Chan, ‘Tone and melody in Cantonese’, in Jon Aske (ed.)

Proceedings of the Thirteenth Annual Meeting of the Berkeley Linguistics Society,

Berkeley, California, 14-16 February 1987, pp. 26-37.

64 For a brief history of Cantopop and its role as a cultural form to delineate a local

Hong Kong identity, see Bryce T. McIntyre, Christine Cheng Wai Sum and Zhang

Weiyu, ‘Cantopop: the voice of Hong Kong’, Journal of Asian and Pacific

Communication, 12:2 (2002), pp. 217-243; for its current development refer to Wai-

Chung Ho, ‘Between globalisation and localisation: a study of Hong Kong popular

music’, Popular Music, 22:2 (2003), pp. 143-57.

65 See Kelina Kwan, ‘Textual and melodic contour in Cantonese popular song’, in M.

Baroni and R. Dalmonte (eds), Secondo Convegno Europeo di Analisi Musicale, Vol.

I (Trento: Università di Trento, 1992), pp. 179-87. Kwan’s observation is also

supported by an earlier study which indicates that the relative pitch level would be

more critical than the exact tone contour for Cantonese speakers in tone perception

studies. See Chan, ‘Tone and melody in Cantonese’.


282

66 Patrick C. M. Wong and Randy L. Diehl, ‘How can the lyrics of a song in a tone

language be understood?’, Psychology of Music, 30 (2002), pp. 202-209.

283

Chapter Six

Conclusion

The preliminary analysis in the introductory chapter showed some musical

features of Shanghai popular song, the audience’s perception of musical works and

fragmented facts of the Shanghai popular music industry. Furthering the findings

from the analysis to understand this bygone industry and its products, a two-level

research plan was proposed based on the simple model of popular music industry. At

the first level, following the hypothetical flowchart, details of the producing, selling

and consuming processes were retrieved from various historical sources to reconstruct

the industry platform. The first level of work has not only revealed most of the

operating mechanism of the industry but also identified several key events which

profoundly influenced the development of Shanghai popular song. At the second

level, preceded by a discussion on Chinese features in music, a collection of historical

recordings were used to examine musical and lyrical components of Shanghai popular

song. While the product analysis did not cover all aspects suggested in the

composition-performance view of song creation, the second level of this study has

illustrated how both Chinese and Western musical elements had been both employed.

Based on the result of the two-level work, the concluding chapter discusses the

significant findings in this study and questions for future study.

I. The rediscovered past

Taking into consideration the social and political changes in 1930s and 1940s

Shanghai and the important events in the music industry that have been discovered in

Chapter Six Conclusion

284

the work of reconstructing the platform, the development of the Shanghai popular

song can now be divided into four stages.

1. Laying the foundation

Covering a time span of approximate ten years, from the late 1920s to the

outbreak of the Sino-Japanese War in 1937, this initial stage saw several important

‘firsts’ in the history of Chinese popular music. Li Jinhui started writing love songs in

1927, adapting folk tunes and traditional operatic works and using Western

instrumental accompaniment. Film companies began the production of sound film

and the first song exclusively composed for the screen was produced and released by

local record companies in 1930. While an amateur singing group who first performed

regularly on radio was organised in 1932, the first commercial singing club was

founded six months later and sponsored by local shops to give performances on the

air. The first and only ‘top three radio singers contest’, in which the audience were

invited to vote for their favourite radio singers, was held in 1934. The first dance

band consisting entirely of Chinese members who delivered a great number of

Chinese popular songs at a dancehall was organised in 1934. Moreover, at this stage

the two major foreign record companies began to formally employ Chinese staff to

conduct the music production. The organisational change of foreign record

companies, together with the development of the expanding broadcasting, film and

recording industry and the abundance of nightlife in Shanghai, offered great

opportunities for songwriters to compose more works. At this stage, songwriters from

various backgrounds, members of song-and-dance troupes, self-taught or

conservatory-trained musicians, explored the possibilities of using various

combinations of Western and Chinese musical elements in popular songs. Their


285

works, either love songs full of sentimental affairs or songs written for specific scenes

in films, allowed the Chinese audience to hear new sound effects as well as to learn to

appreciate Western music in a Chinese musical context.

2. Carpe diem in the enclave

The second stage was a preparatory stage in which Shanghai popular song was

on its way to becoming the mainstream. In addition to the prevailing American

music, Chinese popular songs were gradually accepted in many entertainment

establishments and moreover, Chinese composers started working full-time in foreign

record companies. After the Japanese military took over the Chinese Municipality in

Shanghai in 1937, the International Settlement and the French Concession became an

enclave and continued to thrive. Commercial activities during the day and flashy and

fleshy excitement at night never ceased until late 1941 when the Japanese military

entered the two foreign concessions following the outbreak of the Pacific War.

Before then, numerous Chinese people fled the Japanese occupied areas and flocked

into the two concessions where foreign record companies and most entertainment

venues such as cinemas, dancehalls and nightclubs, were located and where people

enjoyed the present without thought for the nation’s plight and future. Under

Japanese military control, patriotic or mass songs with subject matter of the national

salvation or anti-Japanese connotations were strictly forbidden in the occupied area.

However, in order to avoid any diplomatic problems with Japan and to maintain

stability, the authorities of the two concessions would not let anti-Japanese songs

spread out within their boundaries either. Hence, the Chinese popular music gained

increasing popularity and continued to oil the wheel of the social merry-go-round.


286

3. Moving to upmarket venues

During the years from 1942 to 1945 when the Japanese puppet regime

controlled the whole of Shanghai, thanks to a ban on American music and films

imposed by the Japanese authorities, Chinese popular song rose up to an

unprecedented status. At this stage, particularly in the last two years, in comparison

to other regions of China and Southeast Asia where the Japanese military were

fighting desperately, an illusion of peace and prosperity was created in Shanghai. On

the one hand, as Japan was eager to establish the ‘co-operative body of great East

Asia’, the flourishing Shanghai city would be an advertisement for this wild fantasy.

Multifarious urban entertainments and cultural events, which helped to develop an

image of the city’s thriving social life, were undoubtedly encouraged. On the other

hand, because news about the war or political situations was strictly selected and only

approved information was offered by the government-controlled mass media, most

citizens could hardly see the whole picture of the reality. This city was virtually

isolated from the rest of the world. It was under these tricky circumstances that

Shanghai popular songs supplanted American popular music and took pride of place

in the entertainment industry.

4. The height of Shanghai popular song

At this stage, from the end of the war in 1945 to the advent of the communist

regime in 1949, the production of Shanghai popular song reached the height.

Following the victory over Japan came the conflict between the National Party and

the Chinese Communist Party. Nevertheless, the production of popular music in

Shanghai seemed not to be hampered by the social and political chaos, nor was the

rehabilitation of American jazz and films in this city impeded by the turmoil. While


287

RCA-Victor’s production was discontinued in 1945 because manufacturing facilities

were seriously damaged during the war, EMI carried on producing Chinese popular

music and became the only record company in China capable of manufacturing

gramophone records. Chinese songwriters, who had accumulated considerable

experience of utilising various musical elements in the production of popular music

over the past few years, now gathered in EMI and were headed by Musical Director

Li Jinguang. Likewise, in collaboration with these producers, singers and

instrumentalists, either talented newcomers or those who had been established in the

industry for a long time, all came to the studio in EMI to record new works.

Moreover, as the Chinese audience had literally been trained at the previous three

stages to take pleasure in listening to the combination of traditional and Western

music, they could now enjoy whatever was provided by the industry.

Looking back on the start of modern Shanghai and the four stages of the

development of Shanghai popular song, it can be found that in addition to the

developing new media and the flourishing entertainment industry, social and political

changes in Shanghai also contributed to the popularity and commercial success of

Shanghai popular song. Chaos caused by the Small Swords and Taiping Rebellion

unexpectedly drove Chinese people back to the areas originally designated for

foreigners and allowed them to live side by side with foreigners of all stripes. The

abolishment of residential segregation opened up an opportunity for Shanghai to

develop into an international metropolis where different cultures and material

civilisation encountered and coexisted in harmony. While maintaining their

centuries-old traditions, Chinese residents in the foreign concessions also embraced

Western civilisation and lifestyles and were willing to integrate Western ideas into


288

traditional matters. It was Shanghainese people’s open-minded personalities and the

uninhibited exchange between Chinese and Western cultures that made possible the

creation of a type of music which consisted of both indigenous and imported

materials.

Shanghai popular song had its origin in Li Jinhui’s musical dramas for

children, which he created as a supplementary approach for teaching Mandarin

Chinese when engaged by the Shanghai National Language Institute, which was

actually founded in response to the Chinese government’s attempt to promote the use

of Mandarin Chinese as an official language. Apparently, it was the financial

difficulty in Singapore that made Li turn to the creation of ‘love song’ and it was the

overwhelming popularity of his works encouraged more composers to come on board

the popular music industry. Nevertheless, if he had not been involved in the ‘national

language’ education, there might have been no children’s musical drama, no song-

and-dance performance, no love song, and thus no Shanghai popular song.

The special status of the foreign concessions offered political and economic

stability for the continuous and expanded production of popular songs from 1937 to

late 1941. While Chinese factories and commercial establishments in other areas of

Shanghai and its vicinity were heavily damaged in countless Japanese air raids,

undisturbed by the war, record companies operated as usual in this secure enclave.

Had the foreign concessions been ceded back to China before the outbreak of Sino-

Japanese War, the production facilities of these record companies would have

probably been destroyed in the flames of the war and the development of Shanghai

popular song might have ceased at the beginning of the second stage. Although the

Japanese military eventually entered and occupied the concessions, the ban on

American music and films not only induced more production of Shanghai popular


289

song but also lifted it to an unprecedented position, to be performed with European

classical music on the same stage.

Apart from social and political changes, the changes in business practices and

the organisational structure of foreign record companies were another factor which

induced the vast production of Shanghai popular song. In fact, foreign record

companies had never devised any scheme to create a new product line for the Chinese

audience since they started business in China, but simply recorded anything that

might interest consumers and make profits. Nevertheless, it was EMI and RCA-

Victor that provided essential technologies and manufacturing facilities and gave

songwriters and artists space to produce what they could. Foreign managers

employed Chinese personnel to lead musical production and recording activities so

that decisions of what to record or to produce could be made within the organisation

rather than being dependent on the outsiders, middlemen. However, this move also

allowed Chinese songwriters and singers wider opportunities for their musical works

to be brought into the recording studio. On paper, a Chinese musical director signed

up singers, accepted new compositions and organised recording sessions on behalf of

a foreign record company, yet in practice he was using the resources in the company

to enable numerous Chinese songs to be made into records and reach a wide audience

through the company’s distribution channels. It was particularly true of the situation

in EMI. Chinese songwriters gained full control over the music production after

composers were employed full-time in the late 1930s, especially after Li Jinguang

succeeded Fu Xiangxun as Musical Director.

While foreign record companies brought to China their business practices as

well as the recording and record manufacturing technology for economic benefits, in

the event, against the unique social and political backdrop in Shanghai, it was Chinese


290

songwriters who dominated in the production process and determined what sound

would reach the audience.

The impression of ethnicity or nationality a piece of music may convey is

subject to a listener’s knowledge of formal, stylistic features of music as well as

musicality to recognise those features. Westerners in the nineteenth and early

twentieth centuries made negative comments on Chinese music from the perspective

of their understandings of music and would consider a work authentic Chinese only

when stereotypical characters such as pentatonicism, the use of grace notes and noise

created by certain instruments were present. These remarks, though seemingly

culturally biased, actually reflect two important features in Chinese music, the

heterophonic musical texture and the pentatonic melodic framework. Taking

Westerners’ comments as a point of departure for exploring the features of the

musical works produced under the direction of those Chinese songwriters, there are

some interesting findings in the product analysis.

The reason Westerners found the Chinese-style singing voice difficult to

appreciate is because Chinese vocalists sang principally in the head voice and thus

develops brighter, lighter tones resonating mostly in the anterior part of the head in

contrast to the mellow, round and open-throated sounds produced by the Western bel

canto method. Although to audiences today Shanghai popular singers’ voices in most

historical recordings also tend to sound nasal and high-pitched, through careful

listening, there are still subtle differences among their vocal qualities. The distinctive

tone quality produced by Chinese traditional and bel canto vocal techniques can be

identified in many recordings and sometimes both Chinese and Western singing

voices are even heard within one song. Moreover, the immature ‘little sister’ voice


291

whose quality does not meet the requirements of either Chinese or Western singing

traditions is also found in some recordings.

While traditional Chinese music is usually perceived as pentatonic, it is not

always strictly pentatonic because altered tones are also employed as passing,

auxiliary or arbitrary ornamental notes or as a result of modulation. In a similar

manner, altered tones can also be heard in many Shanghai popular songs which are

written on the Chinese pentatonic scale. What is worthy of special notice is their use

in ABA- or AABA-form songs. In some cases, the frequent use of altered tones in the

melodic line in section B provides a clear and striking contrast in character compared

to that of section A, yet the pentatonic framework remains intact. In others, the

occurrence of those non-pentatonic tones in section B drastically changes the

pentatonicism established in section A into a new system which features the Western

diatonic scale and major-minor tonality.

From the melodic point of view, while all types of songs can be performed to

the accompaniment of Western instruments, Chinese instruments are only employed

to accompany Chinese-style songs. Among various combinations of instruments and

melodic styles, the most interesting cases are songs which contained both Chinese and

Western musical elements, i.e., tunes in the Chinese or mixed style accompanied by

Western instruments. It is found in selected recording examples, when ignoring the

distinctive nature of pentatonicism but treating Chinese melodies as those on major or

minor Western scales, Chinese-styled songs can be easily accompanied only by the

primary I, IV and V chords. In order to add richness and variety to harmony

accompaniment, other chords can also be used along with primary chords under

common chord progression patterns. When a phrase contains altered tones, there are

more possibilities to incorporate secondary chords, secondary dominants and


292

sophisticated chord progressions to enrich the harmonic language and the dynamic of

tension and release in the accompaniment. Songs accompanied by various types of

chords are certainly no longer heterophonic in texture. In these songs, a touch of the

Chinese heterophonic accompaniment can only be found when there is a duplicated

vocal line delivered by an accompanying instrument or when ‘big packing of tune’ is

arranged on purpose.

Perhaps due to a lack of knowledge of the Chinese language and reluctance to

approach Chinese singing, most Western observers in the nineteenth and early

twentieth centuries failed to notice that in traditional Chinese vocal works, a melodic

line was usually neatly designed and grace notes were added to reflect the pitch

movement of lexical tones in lyrics. However, the age-old tonal rules in songwriting

were dismissed in Shanghai popular song. Songwriters no longer employed these

musical devices and simply ignored lexical tones to allow more melodic freedom,

which reduced the intelligibility of lyrics. Therefore, the more the lyrics of a song

were in written or literary language, the more likely the audience would need printed

lyrics so that the meaning of the lyrics would not be misinterpreted.

In a sense, Shanghai popular song is a westernised Chinese musical product

because a great number of works are bodies consisting of Chinese skeletons (lyrics

and melodies) and Western flesh (accompaniment) and some Chinese musical

features no longer exist in these works. However, from a different perspective,

Shanghai popular song can be regarded as a Western product characterised by distinct

Chineseness just like foreign concessions in Shanghai, built on the Western system

but enlivened with Chinese culture.

In an essay on Chinese cinema and popular song, Paul Leung points out seven

factors determining the popularity and commercial success of a song: a good


293

composer, a good lyricist, a good singer, a good arranger, a good record company,

good publicity through the media and a large number of fans.1 Through the work of

rediscovering Shanghai popular song, this study shows besides these contributing

factors, unexpected social and political changes also contributed to the thriving pop

scene and moreover, the features of musical products reflected the characteristics of

the society in which the industry platform was located. In a metropolis full of

opportunities in a chaotic era, open-minded songwriters, singers and instrumentalists

did not restrict themselves to any specific style but made the most of available

musical materials to create numerous works for their omnivorous audience who

would appreciate whatever was offered by the industry. Although ranks of scholars,

moralists and nationalists derided Shanghai popular song, tried to ban it as decadent

and pornographic, and even denounced it as opium for the masses, is was through Li

Jinhui’s love songs and other ensuing ‘decadent sounds’ that more ordinary people

came to know different forms of Western music.

II. After the rediscovery

The reconstruction of the industry platform and product analysis in this study

is just the beginning of understanding Shanghai pop and more work has yet to be

done. Apart from the many historical details revealed in this study, there are still facts

and figures on some participants and activities in which they were involved that need

to be explored. It remains to be seen who facilitated distribution of records and the

cooperation between record and film companies, as well as who promoted live

performances in radio stations and many other entertainment establishments. It

requires further study to understand how censorship was performed on popular music


294

and record publishing. There are also more facets of musical products to be

investigated. The literary qualities of lyrics and social changes that they might have

reflected deserve further discussion. In addition, as some singers studied Western

singing skills primarily from Russian vocalists, it is worth exploring the difference

between the Russian vocal technique and the better known Italian bel canto and

whether such a difference existed in Shanghai popular song. Although details of

White Russian and Filipino instrumentalists’ participation in arrangements for

recordings remains unclear, a comparative study of their musical works from other

countries produced during the same period may reveal a clearer picture of their

musicality and contributions.

Despite the incompleteness of the reconstruction of the platform and the

product features remaining to be investigated, the hypothetical flowchart in this study

proved to be a useful tool in understanding the music industry of the past. The

findings of this study have filled in the underrepresented part of the modern history of

Chinese music and added to the literature on this under-explored musical area in

Shanghai studies. They illustrated that the popular music industry and its products in

1930s and 1940s Shanghai are not merely a result of transplanted Western innovation

in China, but an outcome of the transnational exchange between two cultures.

Apart from the historical findings and musical analysis, this study also

demonstrated a practicable strategy for understanding an underrepresented repertoire

of music in history. Franco Fabbri’s five groups of genre rules were useful for the

preliminary analysis which systematically examined the general features of Shanghai

popular songs. Although the concept of music genre can be elusive, this kind of

initial survey helped to build up a picture of not only the musical characteristics of the

subject in question but also the context in which the music was produced, sold and


295

consumed. This picture benefited the work of reconstruction and detailed musical

analysis at a later stage of the study. Moreover, the proposed model and the

hypothetical flowchart proved to be constructive, even though they initially drew on

historical facts and developments of the Anglo-American music industry and it was

difficult to tell at the early stage of the study whether they could be applicable to the

pop industry in 1930s and 1940s Shanghai. It was with the aid of the flowchart

developed from the model of the music industry in Chapter Two that details of the

participants involved in the producing, selling and consuming processes and the

events taking place around these processes were tracked down accordingly.

As has been argued, Chiese popular music has long been unduly neglected by

cultural historians, not least because of the problems of sources and materials. This

study has shown that with a flowchart mapping how musical products moved from

record companies to consumers along with the juxtaposition of all involved

participants, the history of popular music can be rediscovered. This has been done

systematically in this thesis by using songs as evidence, treating media material

carefully, and tracking down archives and surviving participants. Finally, the

approach employed in this study might also be applied to research into other cultural

and historical examples, such as 1930s and 1940s Taiwanese pop. This is another

under-explored repertoire of musical works which integrated both Chinese and

Western musical elements, produced in a Japanese colony but against a different

social and political background. However, the flowchart proposed in this thesis may

need to be expanded or contracted in these different cases with further participants

added, removed or linked by different collaborative or competitive relationships.


296

Endnote

1 Leung is a songwriter, manager of a record company and columnist for Hong Kong

Economic Journal. The essay was written for the programme of the 17th Hong Kong

International Film Festival which featured a special retrospective topic of Chinese

cinema from the 1940s through the 1960s. See Paul Leung, ‘Mandarin movies &

Mandarin pop songs’, in Law Kar (ed.), Mandarin Films and Popular Songs, 40s-60s:

Programme of the 17th Hong Kong International Film Festival (Hong Kong: Urban

Council, 1993), p.48.

29

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t

1944

Shan

ghi p

opul

ar s

ong

firs

t per

form

ed w

ith W

este

rn c

lass

ical

mus

ic

on th

e sa

me

stag

e

Stag

e F

our:

The

acm

e of

Sha

ngha

i pop

ular

son

g

1945

T

he e

nd o

f Si

no-J

apna

ese

war

L

i Jin

guan

g pr

omot

ed a

s M

uica

l Dir

ect i

n E

MI

EM

I be

com

ing

the

only

rec

ord

com

pany

cap

able

of

man

ufac

turi

ng

gram

opho

ne r

ecor

ds

Bus

ines

s of

RC

A-V

icto

r ce

ased

1949

Sh

angh

ai ‘

liber

ated

’ by

the

Chi

nese

Com

mun

ists

O

pera

tion

of E

MI

ceas

ed

301

Appendix III

List of Informants

Name Gender Year of birth Date and place of

interview

Fans

Zhao Shihui 趙士薈 M 1934 11/12/2003 Shanghai Shen Fugen 沈富根 M 1933 11/02/2004 Shanghai Ding Yongxu 丁庸序 M 1937 19/02/2004 Shanghai Ms Li 李女士 F 1939 21/02/2004 Shanghai Li Yiqian 李依倩 F 1939 21/02/2004 Shanghai Ms Shao 邵女士 F 1936 21/02/2004 Shanghai Ms Shen 沈女士 F 1930 21/02/2004 Shanghai Wang Jinghua 王靜華 F 1933 21/02/2004 Shanghai Wang Yixian 王奕賢 M 1927 01/03/2004 Shanghai Cao Henglong 曹恆龍 M 1940 13/03/2004 Shanghai Jing Yingti 金鶯啼 F 1934 13/03/2004 Shanghai Wang Weishan 王渭山 M 1930 13/03/2004 Shanghai Zhou Baode 周寶德 M 1932 13/03/2004 Shanghai Peng Guokuan 彭國寬 M 1929 15/03/2004 Shanghai Wang Tingfu 王庭富 M 1930 15/03/2004 Shanghai Zhang Yunsong 張雲松 M 1921 15/03/2004 Shanghai

Instrumentalist

Zhao Jiying 趙濟瑩 M 1920 29/12/2003 Shanghai Zheng Deren 鄭德仁 M 1924 29/12/2003 Shanghai Wei Jun 韋駿 M 1917 20/02/2004 Shanghai

Employee of EMI

Zhu Zhonghua 朱鐘華 F 1924 10/02/2004 Shanghai

Singer

Wu Yingyin 吳鶯音 F 1921 31/12/2003 Shanghai Jin Yi 金溢 F 1931 07/01/2004 Shangahi Zhang Fan 張帆 F 1922 31/01/2004 Beijing Yan Fei 嚴斐 F 1917 05/02/2004 Tianjin

30

2

App

end

ix I

V

Lis

t of

Son

g E

xam

ple

s C

ited

in t

he T

ext

Voc

al/t

itle

L

yric

s M

usic

C

atal

ogue

num

ber

Bai

Gua

ng 白光

Den

gzhe

ni h

uila

i 等著你回來

(W

aitin

g fo

r yo

u)

Yan

Zhe

xi 嚴折西

C

hen

Rui

zhen

陳瑞楨

Pa

thé

3573

9B*

Jinx

i hex

i 今夕何夕

(W

hat s

ort o

f ni

ght i

s to

nigh

t)

Xu

Sulin

g 徐蘇靈

C

hen

Rui

zhen

陳瑞楨

Pa

thé

3580

3A

Ni b

uyao

zou

你不要走

(D

on’t

go)

C

hen

Gex

in 陳歌辛

C

hen

Gex

in 陳歌辛

Pa

thé

3559

2A

Qiu

ye 秋夜

(A

utum

n ni

ght)

X

iao

Zhu

小珠

L

i Hou

xian

g 李厚襄

Pa

thé

3578

6A

Rug

uo m

eiyo

u ni

如果沒有你

(If

livi

ng w

ithou

t you

)

Yan

Zhe

xi 嚴折西

Y

an Z

hexi

嚴折西

Pa

thé

3577

3A

Xia

njia

n bu

hen

wan

相見不恨晚

(N

ever

too

late

to c

ome

to k

now

you

)

Yan

g X

iaoz

hong

楊小仲

L

i Jin

guan

g 黎錦光

Pa

thé

3573

9A

Bai

Hon

g 白虹

Bie

zou

de

nam

o ku

ai 別走得那麼快

(D

on’t

Go

So F

ast)

W

en C

hao 文超

Y

an Z

hexi

嚴折西

Pa

thé

3574

0A

Chu

ntia

n de

jian

glin

春天的降臨

(T

he c

omin

g of

spr

ing)

H

ong

Fei 洪菲

C

hen

Gex

in 陳歌辛

Pa

thé

3550

5B

Chu

n zh

i wuq

u 春之舞曲

(D

ance

of

spri

ng)

Wu

Cun

吳村

W

u C

un 吳村

Pa

thé

3551

1A

Lang

shi

chu

nri f

eng 郎是春日風

(H

e is

the

spri

ng w

ind)

L

i Hou

xian

g 李厚襄

L

i Hou

xian

g 李厚襄

Pa

thé

3551

1B

Mai

yu 埋玉

(B

uryi

ng ja

de)

Unk

now

n U

nkno

wn

Path

é 35

510A

App

endi

x IV

So

ng L

ist

30

3

Shas

ha z

aihu

i ba 莎莎再會吧

(G

oodb

ye S

hash

a)

Wu

Cun

吳村

W

u C

un 吳村

Pa

thé

3551

0B

Yu b

usa

hua

hua

buho

ng 雨不灑花花不紅

(N

o ra

in, n

o re

d fl

ower

s)

Li J

ingu

ang 黎錦光

(a

dapt

ed f

rom

fol

k)

Li J

ingu

ang 黎錦光

U

nkno

wn

Zuir

en d

e ko

uhon

g 醉人的口紅

(E

ncha

ntin

g lip

stic

k)

Yan

Zhe

xi 嚴折西

L

iu R

uzen

g 劉如曾

Pa

thé

3579

3A

Gon

g Q

iuxi

a 龔秋霞

Chu

n 春

(Sp

ring

)

Li J

ingu

ang 黎錦光

L

i Jin

guan

g 黎錦光

Pa

thé3

5473

A

Din

gxia

ngsh

u xi

a 丁香樹下

(U

nder

the

clov

e tr

ee)

L

i Hou

xian

g 李厚襄

L

i Hou

xian

g 李厚襄

Pa

thé

3550

6A

Hen

die

nian

g 恨爹娘

(G

rum

blin

g ab

out p

aren

ts)

Li J

ingu

ang 黎錦光

L

i Jin

guan

g 黎錦光

Pa

thé

3549

1A

Hua

nyin

g xi

nnia

n 歡迎新年

(W

elco

me

new

yea

r)

Che

n G

exin

陳歌辛

C

hen

Gex

in 陳歌辛

Pa

thé

3547

3A

Qia

ngw

ei c

huch

u ka

i 薔薇處處開

(R

oses

blo

omin

g ev

eryw

here

)

Che

n G

exin

陳歌辛

C

hen

Gex

in 陳歌辛

Pa

thé

3550

7B

Qiu

shui

yir

en 秋水伊人

(B

eyon

d th

e fr

osty

wat

er)

H

e L

ütin

g 賀綠汀

H

e L

ütin

g 賀綠汀

Pa

thé

3535

7A

Hua

ng F

eira

n 黃飛然

Req

ing

de y

anjin

g 熱情的眼睛

(Pa

ssio

nate

eye

s)

Yan

Zhe

xi 嚴折西

L

iu R

uzen

g 劉如曾

Pa

thé

3578

4B

Hu

Die

胡蝶

Yela

ixia

ng 夜來香

(E

veni

ng f

ragr

ance

)

Wan

g Q

ianb

ai 王乾白

Y

an G

ongs

hang

嚴工上

Pa

thé

3477

3A

Lan

g Y

uxiu

郎毓秀

Bei

jiu g

aoge

杯酒高歌

(T

oast

and

Sin

g)

An

E 安娥

E

. A. F

enst

ad

Unk

now

n

Pia

olin

g de

luoh

ua 飄零的落花

(W

ande

ring

fal

len

peta

ls)

L

iu X

uean

劉雪庵

L

iu X

uean

劉雪庵

Pa

thé

3510

8B

Li L

ihua

李麗華

Tian

shan

g re

njia

n 天上人間

(H

eave

n on

ear

th)

Y

e Fa

ng 葉舫

Y

an G

efan

嚴個凡

Pa

thé

3551

2A

App

endi

x IV

So

ng L

ist

30

4

Li L

ili 黎莉莉

Xin

feng

yang

ge 新鳳陽歌

(N

ew s

ong

of F

engy

ang)

A

n E

安娥

R

en G

uang

任光

(a

dapt

ed f

rom

fol

k)

Path

é 34

668A

Li L

ili 黎莉莉

& C

hen

Yan

yan 陳燕燕

Xin

nüx

ing

ge 新女性歌

(T

he s

ong

of n

ew w

omen

)

Shi Y

i 施誼

N

ie E

r 聶耳

Pa

thé

3505

1A/B

Li M

ingh

ui 黎明暉

Kel

ian

de Q

iuxi

ang 可憐的秋香

(The

poo

r Q

iuxi

ang)

L

i Jin

hui 黎錦暉

L

i Jin

hui 黎錦暉

U

nkno

wn

Mao

mao

yu 毛毛雨

(D

rizz

les)

L

i Jin

hui 黎錦暉

L

i Jin

hui 黎錦暉

Pa

thé

3427

8 A

/B

Taol

i zhe

ng c

hun 桃李爭春

(Pe

ach

and

plum

blo

omin

g in

spr

ing)

L

i Jin

hui 黎錦暉

L

i Jin

hui 黎錦暉

U

nkno

wn

Li X

iang

lan 李香蘭

Yela

ixia

ng 夜來香

(E

veni

ng f

ragr

ance

)

Li J

ingu

ang 黎錦光

L

i Jin

guan

g 黎錦光

Pa

thé

3586

6A

Lin

g P

ing 梁萍

Chu

n la

i ren

bul

ai 春來人不來

(Sp

ring

arr

ives

but

he

does

n’t)

Sh

ang

Chu

an 山川

L

iu R

uzen

g 劉如曾

Pa

thé

3573

3A

Shao

nian

de

wo 少年的我

(Y

oung

as

I am

) Pa

thé

3568

8A

Li J

ingu

ang 黎錦光

L

i Jin

guan

g 黎錦光

Lin

g P

ing 梁萍

& Y

ao M

in 姚敏

Din

g ge

ling

gu d

ang 丁個鈴鼓鐺

(D

ing-

dong

bel

l and

dru

m)

L

i Jin

guan

g 黎錦光

L

i Jin

guan

g 黎錦光

Pa

thé

3586

4A

Ma

Tin

gtin

g 馬婷婷

Yu d

a yu

anya

ng 雨打鴛鴦

(R

ain

falls

on

man

dari

n du

cks)

U

nkno

w

Irvi

ng B

erlin

U

nkno

wn

Ouy

ang

Fei

ying

歐陽飛鶯

Xia

ngge

lila 香格里拉

(Sh

angr

i-L

a)

Che

n D

ieyi

陳蝶衣

L

i Jin

guan

g 黎錦光

Pa

thé

3563

7A

App

endi

x IV

So

ng L

ist

30

5

Yu m

engm

eng 雨濛濛

(M

isty

Rai

n)

Ke

Chu

n 克純

H

uang

Yiju

n黃貽鈞

Pa

thé

3563

7B

Pei

Ni 佩妮

Liag

ye b

unen

g liu

良夜不能留

(G

ood

nigh

t doe

sn’t

last

)

Che

n D

ongs

un

陳棟蓀

Y

ao M

in 姚敏

Pa

thé

3572

0B

Qu

Yun

yun 區雲雲

Sanl

unch

e sh

ang

de x

iaoj

ie 三輪車上的小姐

(Y

oung

lady

on

a pe

dica

b)

Qiu

Ziy

e 裘子野

C

hen

Gex

in 陳歌辛

Pa

thé

3569

1A

Shen

g Ji

alun

盛家倫

Yeba

n ge

shen

g 夜半歌聲

(Si

ngin

g at

mid

nigh

t)

Tia

n H

an 田漢

X

ian

Xin

ghai

洗星海

Pa

thé

3520

6A/B

Si Y

igui

斯義桂

Jiao

wo

ruhe

bux

iang

ta 教我如何不想他

(H

ow c

ould

I f

orge

t her

)

Liu

Ban

nong

劉半農

C

hao

Yue

n-re

n 趙元任

Pa

thé

3549

4A

Wan

g R

enm

ei 王人美

& L

i lili

黎莉莉

Taoh

ua ji

ang 桃花江

(T

he r

iver

of

peac

h bl

osso

m)

L

i Jin

hui 黎錦暉

L

i Jin

hui 黎錦暉

U

nkno

wn

Wu

Yin

gyin

吳鶯音

Dad

i hui

chun

大地回春

(Sp

ring

com

es b

ack

on e

arth

)

Che

n D

ongs

un

陳棟蓀

Y

ao M

in 姚敏

Pa

thé

3576

3A

Dua

ncha

ng h

ong 斷腸紅

(Sp

ring

sad

ness

)

Zha

ng S

heng

張生

Y

an Z

hexi

嚴折西

Pa

thé

3577

6A

Hao

chu

nxia

o 好春宵

(Pl

easa

nt n

ight

time)

C

hen

Don

gsun

陳棟蓀

X

u L

ang 徐朗

Pa

thé

3567

5B

Non

g be

n ch

iqin

g 儂本癡情

(In

fatu

atio

n)

Che

n D

ongs

un

陳棟蓀

L

i Hou

xian

g 李厚襄

Pa

thé

3565

2B

App

endi

x IV

So

ng L

ist

30

6

Pin

g sh

ui x

iang

feng

萍水相逢

(M

eet b

y ch

ance

)

Yan

Zhe

xi 嚴折西

Y

an Z

hexi

嚴折西

Pa

thé

3585

6B

Qui

hua

yuem

an 秋華月滿

(Fu

ll m

oon

in d

eep

autu

mn)

M

an Y

ing 漫影

L

i Hou

xian

g 李厚襄

Pa

thé

3573

2A

Yuel

uo w

uti 月落烏啼

(Se

tting

moo

n an

d cr

owin

g ra

ven)

L

ao Y

an 勞燕

D

a Sh

i 大士

Pa

thé

3582

0B

Wo

xian

g w

angl

e ni

我想忘了你

(I

wan

na f

orge

t you

)

Xu

Lan

g 徐朗

X

u L

ang 徐朗

Pa

thé

3565

2A

Yao

Li 姚莉

Bai

lan

xian

g 白蘭香

(W

hite

orc

hid)

L

i Jin

guan

g 黎錦光

L

i Jin

guan

g 黎錦光

Pa

thé

3564

0A

Buy

ao n

i 不要你

(Y

ou a

re u

nwan

ted)

C

hen

Gex

in 陳歌辛

C

hen

Gex

in 陳歌辛

(a

dapt

ed f

rom

fol

k)

Path

é 35

659B

Cho

ngfe

ng 重逢

(R

eenc

ount

er)

Y

an Z

hexi

嚴折西

Y

an Z

hexi

嚴折西

Pa

thé

3570

2B

Chu

n de

men

g 春的夢

(D

ream

of

Spri

ng)

U

nkno

wn

Tak

eoka

Nob

uyuk

i 竹岡信幸

Pa

thé

3589

4A

Deb

udao

de

aiqi

n 得不到的愛情

(U

nreq

uite

d lo

ve)

Y

an Z

hexi

嚴折西

Y

ao M

in 姚敏

Pa

thé

3577

9A

Mai

xia

ngsi

賣相思

(L

oves

ickn

ess

for

sale

)

Bao

Yi 包乙

Y

an H

ua 嚴華

R

egal

416

38A

Mei

gui m

eigu

i wo

ai n

i 玫瑰玫瑰我愛你

(R

ose,

ros

e, I

love

you

)

Wu

Cun

吳村

C

hen

Gex

in 陳歌辛

Pa

thé

3550

0B

Nag

e bu

duo

qin

g 那個不多情

(N

o on

e is

not

am

orou

s)

Li J

ingu

ang 黎錦光

Y

ao M

in 姚敏

Pa

thé

3563

5A

Qin

huai

he p

an 秦淮河畔

(O

n th

e ri

ver

bank

of

Qin

huai

)

Che

n D

ongs

un

陳棟蓀

Y

ao M

in 姚敏

Pa

thé

3566

6B

Qiu

de

huai

nian

秋的懷念

(T

he c

heri

shed

mem

ory

of a

utum

n)

Wu

Cun

吳村

C

hen

Gex

in 陳歌辛

Pa

thé

3550

0B

Yike

pox

in 一顆破心

(A

bro

ken

hear

t)

Yan

Zhe

xi 嚴折西

Y

an Z

hexi

嚴折西

un

know

n

Yao

Li 姚莉

& Y

ao M

in 姚敏

Gon

gxi g

ongx

i 恭喜恭喜

(C

ongr

atul

atio

ns)

C

hen

Gex

in 陳歌辛

C

hen

Gex

in 陳歌辛

Pa

thé

3564

8B

App

endi

x IV

So

ng L

ist

30

7

Mal

ai fe

nggu

rang

馬來風光

(M

alay

an s

cene

ry)

Y

an Z

hexi

嚴折西

M

Ber

nard

(ad

apte

d fr

om I

ndon

esia

n so

ng)

Path

é 35

936A

Yao

Min

姚敏

Ruc

i Sha

ngha

i 如此上海

(Su

ch S

hang

hai)

Y

ao M

in 姚敏

Y

ao M

in 姚敏

un

know

n

Yi M

in 逸敏

Kan

zhe

wo 看著我

(L

ook

at m

e)

Yan

Zhe

xi 嚴折西

Y

an Z

hexi

嚴折西

Pa

thé

3575

0A

Yin

g Y

in 英茵

Qiu

qian

jia

shan

g 鞦韆架上

(O

n T

he S

win

g)

Unk

now

n G

asto

n L

yle

Path

é 35

355A

Zha

ng F

an 張帆

Cho

ucho

ng g

e 臭蟲歌

(B

ug s

ong)

G

ang

Min

g 鋼鳴

C

hen

Gex

in 陳歌辛

Pa

thé

3572

8A

Man

chan

g fe

i 滿場飛

(Pa

rty

time)

B

ao Y

i 包乙

L

i Jin

guan

g 黎錦光

R

egal

416

29B

Taoh

ua d

uodu

o ho

ng 桃花朵朵紅

(R

ed p

each

blo

ssom

s)

Shui

xi C

un 水西村

L

i Hou

xian

g 李厚襄

Pa

thé

3572

8B

Zho

u X

iaoy

an 周小燕

Hon

gdou

ci 紅豆詞

(A

dzuk

i bea

ns)

C

ao X

ueqi

n 曹雪芹

L

iu X

uean

劉雪庵

Pa

thé

3577

0B

Zho

u X

uan 周璇

Ais

hen

de ji

an 愛神的箭

(C

upid

’s a

rrow

)

Che

n D

ieyi

陳蝶衣

L

i Jin

guan

g 黎錦光

Pa

thé

3572

5A

Bub

ian

de x

in 不變的心

(St

eadf

ast a

ffec

tion)

L

i Jua

nqin

g 李雋青

C

hen

Gex

in 陳歌辛

Pa

thé

3585

7A

Cai

bin

glan

g 採檳榔

(B

etel

nut

pic

king

)

Yin

Yiq

iu 殷憶秋

L

i Jin

guan

g 黎錦光

(A

dapt

ed f

rom

fol

k)

Path

é 35

504A

Cha

ng x

iang

si 長相思

(E

verl

astin

g lo

vesi

ckne

ss)

W

u C

un 吳村

W

u C

un 吳村

Pa

thé

3546

2B

Fen

ghua

ng y

ufei

鳳凰于飛

(Pa

ired

pho

enix

)

Che

n D

ieyi

陳蝶衣

C

hen

Gex

in 陳歌辛

Pa

thé

3585

8 A

App

endi

x IV

So

ng L

ist

30

8

Her

i jun

zai

lai 何日君再來

(W

hen

will

you

com

e ba

ck a

gain

)

Hua

ng J

iam

o 黃嘉謨

L

iu X

uean

劉雪庵

Pa

thé

3533

3A/B

Lian

g tia

o lu

sha

ng 兩條路上

(O

n tw

o ro

ads)

Y

an Z

hexi

嚴折西

Y

an Z

hexi

嚴折西

Pa

thé

3567

8A

Mai

zah

uo 賣雜貨

(Se

lling

gro

ceri

es)

L

i Jin

guan

g 黎錦光

(A

dapt

ed f

rom

fol

k)

Li J

ingu

ang 黎錦光

(A

dapt

ed f

rom

fol

k)

Path

é 35

415B

Mei

fei w

u 梅妃舞

(D

ance

of

mei

fei)

C

heng

Xia

oqin

g 程小青

L

i Jin

guan

g 黎錦光

Pa

thé

3550

9B

Siji

ge 四季歌

(T

he s

ong

of f

our

seas

ons)

T

ian

Han

田漢

H

e L

ütin

g 賀綠汀

(A

dapt

ed f

rom

fol

k)

Path

é 35

335B

Song

dag

e 送大哥

(Se

eing

off

eld

er b

roth

er)

H

e L

ütin

g 賀綠汀

(A

dapt

ed f

rom

fol

k)

He

Lüt

ing 賀綠汀

(A

dapt

ed f

rom

fol

k)

Path

é 35

677A

Tebi

e ku

aich

e 特別快車

(T

he e

xpre

ss tr

ain)

L

i Jin

hui 黎錦暉

L

i Jin

hui 黎錦暉

V

icto

r 54

90A

Tian

ya g

enü 天涯歌女

(T

he w

ande

ring

son

gstr

ess)

T

ian

Han

田漢

H

e L

ütin

g 賀綠汀

(A

dapt

ed f

rom

fol

k)

Path

é 35

335A

Wan

’an

qu 晚安曲

(G

ood

nigh

t)

Liu

Ruz

eng 劉如曾

L

iu R

uzen

g 劉如曾

Pa

thé

3577

2B

Wuy

ue d

e fe

ng 五月的風

May

win

d)

Che

n G

exin

陳歌辛

L

i Jin

guan

g 黎錦光

Pa

thé

3557

7A

Xia

o de

zan

mei

笑的讚美

(Pr

aise

for

laug

hter

)

Che

n D

ieyi

陳蝶衣

L

iang

Yue

yin 梁樂音

V

icto

r 42

248B

Xia

oxia

o do

ngfa

ng 小小洞房

(T

he li

ttle

nupt

ial c

ham

ber)

W

u G

uang

zu 吳光祖

C

hen

Gex

in 陳歌辛

Pa

thé

3572

4B

Xin

dui

hua 新對花

(N

ew f

low

er q

uiz)

Y

an H

ua 嚴華

Y

an H

ua 嚴華

(a

dapt

ed f

rom

fol

k)

Path

é 35

414A

/B

Yuey

uan

huah

ao 月圓花好

(Fu

ll m

oon

and

bloo

min

g fl

ower

s)

Fan

Yan

qiao

范煙橋

Y

an H

ua 嚴華

Pa

thé

3549

7A

Yi li

angr

en 憶良人

(R

ecal

ling

my

husb

and)

L

i Jua

nqin

g 李雋青

L

i Hou

xian

g 李厚襄

Pa

thé

3551

5A

Zhiy

in h

echu

xun

知音何處尋

(W

here

is m

y tr

ue a

udie

nce)

C

hen

Die

yi 陳蝶衣

Y

an Z

hexi

嚴折西

Pa

thé

3570

8A

App

endi

x IV

So

ng L

ist

30

9

Zho

u X

uan 周璇

& Y

an H

ua 嚴華

Din

gnin

g 叮嚀

(R

epea

ted

advi

ce)

L

i Jin

guan

g 黎錦光

L

i Jin

guan

g 黎錦光

Pa

thé

3555

2A

Oth

ers*

*

Biy

e ge

畢業歌

(G

radu

atio

n so

ng)

Tia

n H

an 田漢

N

ie E

r 聶耳

Cai

lian

ge 採蓮歌

(So

ng o

f pi

ckin

g lo

tus)

A

n E

安娥

N

ie E

r 聶耳

Cai

ling

ge 採菱歌

(So

ng o

f pi

ckin

g w

ater

che

stnu

t)

Tia

n H

an 田漢

N

ie E

r 聶耳

Cun

gu le

村姑樂

(H

appy

vill

age

girl

) X

u R

uhui

許如輝

X

u R

uhui

許如輝

Da

hui l

aojia

qu 打回老家去

(Fi

ghtin

g th

e w

ay b

ack

hom

e)

An

E 安娥

R

en G

uang

任光

Laoh

u jia

omen

老虎叫門

(T

iger

cal

ling

at th

e do

or)

Li J

ingh

ui 黎錦暉

L

i Jin

ghui

黎錦暉

Mai

bao

ge 賣報歌

(‘S

ong

of n

ewsp

aper

boy

s)

An

E 安娥

N

ie E

r 聶耳

Mat

ou g

ongr

en g

e 碼頭工人歌

(So

ng o

f do

cker

s)

Tia

n H

an 田漢

N

ie E

r 聶耳

Saib

ei c

unnü

塞北村女

(G

irl f

rom

the

villa

ge in

the

nort

h)

Tan

g N

a 唐納

N

ie E

r 聶耳

Shan

ghai

kôs

hink

yoku

上海進行曲

(Sh

angh

ai m

arch

) Y

amad

a H

iros

hi

山田

博

Mat

suda

ira

Nob

uhir

o 松平信博

Shin

a no

yor

u 支那の夜

(C

hina

nig

ht)

Saijô

Yas

o 西条十八

T

akeo

ka N

obuy

uki

竹綱信幸

Taow

ang

qu 逃亡曲

(So

ng o

f E

xile

) T

ang

Na 唐納

N

ie E

r 聶耳

Xia

qio

nglo

u 下瓊樓

(D

owns

tair

s th

e ja

de to

wer

) X

u R

uhui

許如輝

X

u R

uhui

許如輝

Xin

nüx

ing

ge 新女性歌

(So

ng o

f ne

w w

omen

) Sh

i Yi 施誼

N

ie E

r 聶耳

Xun

xion

g ci

尋兄詞

(W

ords

on

seek

ing

brot

her)

Su

n Y

u 孫瑜

Su

n C

heng

bi 孫成壁

App

endi

x IV

So

ng L

ist

31

0

Ying

fei r

enjia

n zh

utiq

u 鶯飛人間主題曲

(T

he th

eme

song

of

orio

les

flyi

ng o

n ea

rth)

U

nkno

wn

Unk

now

n

Yiyo

ngju

n jin

xing

qu 義勇軍進行曲

(M

arch

of

the

volu

ntee

rs)

Tia

n H

an 田漢

N

ie E

r 聶耳

Zong

li jin

ian

ge 總理紀念歌

(In

mem

ory

of th

e pr

ime

min

iste

r)

Dai

Chu

anxi

an

戴傳賢

L

i Jin

hui 黎錦暉

Zhon

gguo

guo

min

dang

dan

gge 中國國民黨黨歌

(S

ong

of th

e C

hine

se N

atio

nal P

arty

) Su

n W

en 孫文

C

heng

Mao

yun

程懋筠

* C

atal

ogue

num

bers

ref

er to

thos

e of

gra

mop

hone

reco

rds

rele

ased

in th

e Sh

angh

ai e

ra n

ot o

f th

e re

-rel

ease

d re

cord

ings

list

ed in

dis

cogr

aphy

.

** S

ongs

men

tione

d in

this

stu

dy b

ut h

isto

rica

l rec

ordi

ngs

not a

vaila

ble

or n

ot u

sed

for

prod

uct a

naly

sis.

311

Glossary

An Er 安娥

Anding bieshu guangbo diantai 安定別

墅廣播電台

Bai Guang 白光

Bai Hong 白虹

Baidai changpian gongsi 百代唱片公司

Baige 百歌

Bailemen wuting 百樂門舞廳

baixiangren saosao 白相人嫂嫂

bangzi 梆子

Baofang gongsi 寶芳公司

Baoyu tangbing 寶玉探病

Beihai 北海

Beikai 蓓開

Beixin shudian 北新書店

biangong 變宮

bianzhi 變徵

biaozi wuqing xizi wuyi 婊子無情戲子

無義

Cai Chusheng 蔡楚生

chaguan 茶館

Changcheng 長城

Chen Dieyi 陳蝶衣

Chen Gexin 陳歌辛

Chen He 陳鶴

Chen Yumei 陳玉梅

ci 詞

Chongqing 重慶

chuanju 川劇

Chunqiu 春秋

Da shijie 大世界

dabaoqiang 大包腔

Dafang shuju 大方書局

Daguangming xiyuan 大光明戲院

Dahua xin yinyuedui 大華新音樂隊

Glossary

312

dajie xiaoxiang 大街小巷

Dalu 大路

daotai 道台

Dasheng wuxiandian changji hang 大聲

無線電唱機行

Datong she 大同社

Datong yuehui 大同樂會

Daxin 大新

Dazhonghua changpian 大中華唱片

Dazhongyuan pixie 大中原皮鞋

di 笛子

Dianshizhai huabao 點石齋畫報

Diantong gongsi 電通公司

Dianying zhuankan 電影專刊

dihuo 地火

Dipi zhangcheng 地皮章程

Dongbei dagu 東北大鼓

donghai longwang 東海龍王

Du Jie 都杰

Du Yuesheng 杜月笙

Emei 峨眉

erhu 二胡

fanshi ren jiudei tingxi 凡是人就得聽戲

Fan Yanqiao 范煙橋

Feicui ma 翡翠馬

Feihuacun 飛花村

fengmi quanguo 風靡全國

Fenghuang yufei 鳳凰于飛

Fujian 福建

Fuzhou 福州

Fu Xiangxun 傅祥巽

fumuguan 父母官

Gaoshiman wuting 高士滿舞廳

Gaoting 高亭

Gechang chunse 歌場春色

geyongshe 歌詠社

genü 歌女

Genü hongmudan 歌女紅牡丹

Genü zhi ge 歌女之歌

Gesheng leihen 歌聲淚痕

gexing 歌星

gezaixi 歌仔戲

Glossary

313

gong 宮

Gong Qiuxia 龔秋霞

Gong Mujiu 宮慕久

Guangdong 廣東

Guangxi 廣西

Guangzhou 廣州

guoli 國曆

guohuo 國貨

Guotai 國泰

guoyu 國語

guoyu laoge 國語老歌

guoyue 國樂

guoyue jiaoxianghua 國樂交響化

gushi 古詩

Haipai 海派

Hakuran no ka 白蘭の歌

Han 漢

Hanjian 漢奸

Hankou 漢口

hao 好

Hebei 河北

Hesheng 和聲

hirajoshi 平調子

Hong Xiuquan 洪秀全

Hongkou 虹口

Honglou chunshen 紅樓春色

hongpian dajie xiaoxiang 紅遍大街小巷

Hu Die 胡蝶

Hu Xinling 胡心靈

huagu xi 花鼓戲

Huang Fang 黃方

Huang Feiran 黃飛然

Huang Yijun 黃貽鈞

Huangpu 黃浦

Huangpu jiang 黃浦江

huangse yinyue 黃色音樂

huaren jingli 華人經理

huechia 火車; 花車; 貨車

huju 滬劇

Humen 虎門

Hunan 湖南

huqin 胡琴

Glossary

314

Huxi 滬西

Jiangnan 江南

Jiangsu 江蘇

Jindu da xiyuan 金都大戲院

Jingpai 京派

Jinmen da jiudian 金門大酒店

Jinsheng changji gongsi 金聲唱機公司

jintishi 近體詩

jue 角

kunqu 崑曲

Kaerdeng da xiyuan 卡爾登大戲院

Kaiming 開明

Kunlun 崑崙

Kuomintang 國民黨

Lang Yuxiu 郎毓秀

Lanxin xiyuan 蘭心戲院

Laodahua wuting 老大華舞廳

Li Houxiang 李厚襄

Li Jinguang 黎錦光

Li Jinhui 黎錦暉

Li Juanqing 李雋青

Li Lihua 李麗華

Li Lili 黎莉莉

Li Minghui 黎明暉

Li Shutong 李叔同

Li Xianglan 李香蘭

Liang Ping 梁萍

Liang Yueying 梁樂音

Liangxin 良心

Lianhua yingye gongsi 聯華電影公司

Lianxing 聯星

Libailiu 禮拜六

Liji 禮記

Lijiachang 李家場

Lin Gui 麟桂

Liulang wenying 柳浪聞鶯

Liu Tianhua 劉天華

Lü Ji 呂驥

Lu Xun 魯遜

Ma Loufen 馬陋芬

Ma Tingting 馬婷婷

maichang 賣唱

Glossary

315

Malu gongchengju 馬路工程局

Malu tianshi 馬路天使

Maque yu xiaohai 麻雀與小孩

Meiguo wuxiandian shengli changji hezu

gongsi 美國無線電勝利唱機合資公

司

Meihua gewu tuan 梅花歌舞團

Meimei nüxiao 美美女校

Miaoyin tuan 妙音團

mimi zhi yin 靡靡之音

Mingxing she 明星社

Mingxing yingpian gongsi 明星影片公

司

Mingyue gewujushe 明月歌舞劇社

Mingyue gewutuan 明月歌舞團

Mingyue yinyuehui 明月音樂會

Miura Tamaki 三浦環

nangyang 南洋

Nanjing 南京

Nanshi 南市

Nanjing da xiyuan 南京大戲院

Nie Er 聶耳

niesi mao 捏死貓

Ningbo 寧波

Ouyang Feiying 歐陽飛鶯

pianyin 偏音

pibao gongsi 皮包公司

ping 平

pipa 琵琶

Pudong 浦東

putonghua 普通話

Qi 齊

Qianfa 前法

qiangdi 羌笛

Qin Pengzhang 秦鵬章

Qing 清

Qingfeng wuyuedui 清風舞樂隊

qingjue 清角

qingyin 清音

qipao 旗袍

qu 去; 曲

qupai 曲牌

Glossary

316

Qu Yunyun 區雲雲

Ren Guang 任光

Remin changpian chang 人民唱片廠

ru 入

ruan 阮

run 潤

Sakura 櫻

sanxian 三弦

Sanxiao 三笑

Sanyou gongsi 三友公司

Sanyu yueyueshe 三餘粵樂社

se 瑟

Sensen guoyuedui 森森國樂隊

shang 商; 上

Shanghai guoyu zhuanxiu xuexiao 上海

國語專修學校

Shen Xingong 沈心工

sheng 笙

Sheng Jialun 盛家倫

Shengli changpian gongsi 勝利唱片公

司

Shenglong huohu 生龍活虎

shidai 時代

shidai qu 時代曲

Shimonoseki 馬關

shuangqing 雙清

Shun 舜

Sichuan 四川

Si jiemei 四姊妹

Si jiemei kafei yinyueting 四姊妹咖啡音

樂廳

sizhu 絲竹

Song 宋

Songjiang 松江

Sulian zhi you she 蘇聯之友社

Sun Yun 孫瑜

Sun Chengbi 孫成壁

suona 嗩吶

Suzhou 蘇州

Taiping 太平

Takeoka Nobuyuki 竹岡信幸

tanci 彈詞

Glossary

317

Tang 唐

tangshi 唐詩

Taowang 逃亡

Tian Han 田漢

Tianjin 天津

Tianyun she 天韻社

Tianyi yingpian gongsi 天一影片公司

tingzijian 亭子間

Tongsheng shudian 同聲書店

waidiren 外地人

Wang Jingwei 汪精衛

Wang Manjie 汪曼傑

Wang Renmei 王人美

Wei 衛

Wei Linggong 衛靈公

Wenming shuju 文明書局

Wojia yiu ge xiaojiumei 我家有個小九

妹

Wu Cun 吳村

Wu Yingyin 吳鶯鶯

Xiamen 廈門

Xianlesi 仙樂斯

Xianshi gongsi 先施公司

xiangxiaren 鄉下人

Xianyue piaopiao chuchu wen 仙樂飄飄

處處聞

xiao 簫

xiao meimei 小妹妹

xiao shi 笑是; 消失

xiao shimin 小市民

Xiaodaohui 小刀會

Xin nüxing 新女性

Xin shijie 新世界

Xin wutai 新舞台

Xingguang gewu yanjiushe 星光歌舞研

究社

Xingjie 行街

Xingshi 醒獅

Xinjiang 新疆

xinju 新劇

Xinhua wuting 新華舞廳

Xinhua yingye gongsi 新華影業公司

Glossary

318

Xinsheng changji gongsi 心聲唱機公司

xinshi 新詩; 信使; 心事

Xinyue liushengji changpian gongsi 新

月留聲機唱片公司

Xinxin 新新

xiqin 奚琴

xiyuan 戲園

Xu Ruhui 許如輝

Xu Zhenya 徐枕亞

xuetang yuege 學堂樂歌

Yan Gongshang 嚴工上

Yan Gefan 嚴個凡

Yan Hua 嚴華

Yan Zhexi 嚴折西

yang 陽

Yang Huo 陽貨

Yang Lin 楊琳

Yangjingbang 洋涇濱

yangli 陽曆

yangping 陽平

yangqu 陽去

yangru 陽入

yangshang 陽上

Yangzi fandian 揚子飯店

Yangzi wuting 揚子舞廳

Yao Li 姚莉

Yao Min 姚敏

yaogun yinyue 搖滾音樂

yayue 雅樂

Yazhou 亞洲

Ye shanghai 夜上海

Yeban gesheng 夜半歌聲

Yecao xianhua 野草閒花

Yihai 藝海

Yihua she 藝化社

Yihua yingye gongsi 藝華影業公司

yin 陰; 淫

yin yang hebi 陰陽合璧

Ying fei renjian 鶯飛人間

Ying Yin 英茵

yingxing 影星

Yinhai sanbuqu 銀海三部曲

Glossary

319

Yinhan shuangxing 銀漢雙星

yinli 陰曆

yinping 陰平

yinqu 陰去

yinru 陰入

yinshang 陰上

Yinyue jiangxihui 音樂講習會

yineyueshe 音樂社

Yiyuan wuting 逸園舞廳

Yongan 永安

yu 羽

Yulihun 玉梨魂

Yu Yuezhang 余約章

Yuan 元

yuanyang hudie pai 鴛鴦蝴蝶派

yuefenpai guanggao hua 月份牌廣告畫

Yuegong wuting 樂宮舞廳

Yueji 樂記

yueju 越劇

yueqin 月琴

ze 仄

Zeng Zhimin 增志民

Zhabei 閘北

Zhang Changfu 張長福

Zhang Fan 張帆

Zhang Huang 張簧

Zhang Shu 張曙

Zhang Xian 張弦

Zhang Yinwu 張蔭梧

Zhejiang 浙江

Zheng 鄭

zhengyin 正音

zhi 徵

zhixian 知縣

Zhiyin dayuedu 知音大樂隊

Zhongguo changpian gongsi 中國唱片

公司

Zhongguo gechangshe 中國歌唱社

Zhongguo guohuo gongsi 中國國貨公司

Zhonghua gewu zhuanmen xuexiao 中華

歌舞專門學校

Zhonghua gewutuan 中華歌舞團

Glossary

320

Zhonghua lianhe zhipian gongsi 中華聯

合製片公司

Zhonghua shuju 中華書局

Zhongxi diantai 中西電台

Zhongyang dianying jiancha weiyuanhui

中央電影檢查委員會

Zhongyang shuju 中央書局

Zhou Shoujuan 周瘦鵑

Zhou Xuan 周璇

zimin 子民

Zixia 子夏

Ziye she 子夜社

Ziye yuehui 子夜樂會

Ziye zhouge 子夜週歌

Zuoyi julian yiyue xiaozu 左翼劇聯音樂

小組

321

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Yamaguchi Yoshiko 山口淑子 and Fujiwara Sakuya 藤原作彌, Wode qianbansheng:

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‘Yangqingui koushu: Mick Korin’ 洋琴鬼口述—Mick Korin (Foreigner

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Yu Ling 于伶, Ye Shanghai 夜上海 (Shanghai night), in Yuling juzuo xuan 于伶劇作

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Yupian 羽片, ‘Yongsu de dushi yiyue’ 庸俗的都市音樂 (The vulgar urban music),

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Yuan Jian 袁劍, ‘Cong Lipai yinyue shuo dao shidaiqu’ 從黎派音樂說到時代曲

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‘Zhengli guangbo jiemu zhi banfa’ 整理廣播節目之辦法 (Procedures for regulating

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brilliant film songs in The Wandering Songstress), Dazhong yingxun, 30 (February

1941).

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Chinese-language Periodicals

Baidai yuekan 百代半月刊 (Pathé seminonthly)

Beiyang huabao 北洋畫報 (North China pictorial)

Boyin tiandi 播音天地 (Broadcast world)

Boyinjie 播音界 (Broadcast circle)

Dafengbao 大風報 (The wind daily news)

Dawanbao 大晚報 (The China evening news)

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Dazhong yingxun 大眾影訊 (Popular cinema news)

Diansheng 電聲 (Movietone)

Diantong banyue huabao 電通畫報 (Denton pictorial)

Diantong zazhi 電通雜誌 (Denton gazette)

Dianying gushi 電影故事 (Film story)

Dianying huabao 電影畫報 (The screen pictorial)

Dianying huaju 電影話劇 (Cinema and stage play)

Dianying ribao 電影日報 (Movie daily news)

Dianying wenhua 電影文化 (Advocate of culture in cinema)

Dianying zhoubao 電影週報 (Cinema weekly news)

Gexing huabao 歌星畫報 (Pop star pictorial)

Guangbo yuekan 廣播月刊 (Broadcast monthly)

Guangbo wuxiandian 廣播無線電 (Broadcast and radio)

Jingbao 晶報 (The crystal daily)

Kaiming 開明 (Enlightenment)

Liangyou huabao 良友畫報 (The young companion)

Lianhebao 聯合報 (United daily news)

Lianhua huabao 聯華畫報 (United China pictorial)

Mingxing banyuekan 明星半月刊 (Movie star semimonthly)

Qingqing dianying 青青電影 (Evergreen film magazine)

Shanghai huabao 上海畫報 (Shanghai pictorial)

Shanghai wuxiandian 上海無線電 (Shanghai radio weekly)

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354

Shenpao 申報 (Shanghai daily news, or originally titled The Shun Pao Daily)

Tiaowu ribao 跳舞日報 (Daily dance review)

Xianle huabao 仙樂畫報 (Ciro’s pictorial)

Xin yingxing 新銀星 (Silverland)

Xinhua huabao 新華畫報 (New China pictorial, or originally titled Hsinhua in

Pictures)

Xinsheng zhoukan 新生週刊 (New life weekly)

Xinwenbao 新聞報 (The news)

Xinyinyue yuekan 新音樂月刊 (New music monthly)

Xinyiyue yuekan (Huananban) 新音樂月刊 (New music monthly (South China

edition))

Yinhai huabao 銀海畫報 (Silver sea pictorial)

Yingmi julebu 影迷俱樂部 (Film fan club)

Yingmi zhoubao 影迷週報 (Film fan weekly news)

Yingwu ribao 影舞日報 (Film and dance daily news)

Yingxi zazhi 影戲雜誌 (Film magazine)

Yinyue jiaoyu 音樂教育 (Music education)

Yinyue shijie 音樂世界 (Music world)

Yisheng 藝聲 (Art sound)

Yule Zhoubao 娛樂週報 (Variety weekly)

Zhongguo dianying huabao 中國電影畫報 (China film pictorial)

Zhongguo wuxiandian 中國無線電 (China wireless)

355

Discography

30-50 niandai baidai qianxi shiji jingxuan xilie 30-50年代百千禧世紀精選系列

(Highlights of the 30s and 50s of Pathé millennium edition), 2000, EMI (Hong

Kong), 2 Audio CDs, 7243 5 29043 27.

Bai Guang 白光, Lian zhi huo, Baidai bainian xilie 12 戀之火—百代百年系列12

(Fire of love, a hundred years of Pathé, vol.12), 2005, EMI (Hong Kong), Audio

CD, 0094633129221.

—, Ruguo meiyou ni, Baidai Zhongguo shidai qu mingdian 20 如果沒有你—百代中

國時代曲名典20 (If living without you, The legendary Chinese hits, vol.20), 1992,

EMI (Hong Kong), Audio CD, FH 81020 2.

Bai Hong 白虹 Lang shi chunri feng, Baidai Zhongguo shidai qu mingdian 18 郎是春

日風—百代中國時代曲名典20 (He is the spring wind, The legendary Chinese

hits, vol.18), 1992, EMI (Hong Kong), Audio CD, FH 81018 2.

Bai Hong and Zhou Xuan 白虹、周璇 Zuiren de kouhong, Baidai bainian xilie 4 醉

人的口紅—百代百年系列4 (Enchanting lipstick, a hundred years of Pathé, vol.4),

2005, EMI (Hong Kong), Audio CD, 009433145122.

Gong Qiuxia, Zhang Fan, Chen Qi and Chen Juanjuan 龔秋霞、張凡、陳琦、陳娟

娟, Si jiemei, Baidai bainian xilie 17 四姊妹—百代百年系列17 (Four sisters, a

hundred years of Pathé, vol.17), 2005, EMI (Hong Kong), Audio CD,

0094633159327.

Lin, Jenny, Chinoiserie, 2000, BIS, Audio CD, 1046189.

Discography

356

Qu Yunyun 屈雲雲, Zhongguo Shanghai huaqiang nügaoyin Qu Yunyun jingdian

mingqu 中國上海花腔女高音屈雲雲經典名曲 (The classics of coloratura

soprano Qu Yunyun of Shanghai China), private release, 2 Audio CDs, no issue

number.

Shanghai dianying ji, Baidai bainian xilie 26上海電影歌集百代百年系列26 (A

selection of Songs from Shanghai films, a hundred years of Pathé, vol.26), 2005

EMI (Hong Kong), Audio CD, 0094634468428.

Wen Chin-Lung 溫金龍, Erhu chuanshuo 二胡傳說 (The legend of erhu fiddle),

2002, BMG (Taiwan), Audio CD, 74321373922.

Yao Li 姚莉, Dongfang jingdian shuang CD xianliang zhencang ban – san 東方經典

雙CD限量珍藏版—參 (Classic of the Orient double CD collector’s limited edition

vol.1), 2001, EMI (Malaysia), 2 Audio CDs, 7243 5 37391 26.

Ye shanghai jingxuan 夜上海精選 (Highlights of Shanghai night), 1992, EMI (Hong

Kong), Audio CD, 0777 7 78235 21.

Ye shanghai jingxuan er 夜上海精選(二) (Highlights of Shanghai night, vol.2), 1993,

EMI (Hong Kong), Audio CD, 0777 7 78392 25.

Ye shanghai jingxuan san 夜上海精選(三) (Highlights of Shanghai night, vol.3),

1993, EMI (Hong Kong), Audio CD, 7243 8 27459 21.

Ye shanghai jingxuan si 夜上海精選(四) (Highlights of Shanghai night, vol.4), 1994,

EMI (Hong Kong), Audio CD, 7243 8 28926 25.

Zhongguo Shanghai sansishi niandai jueban mingqu yi 中國上海三四十年代名曲

(一) (Deleted 30-40s hits of Shanghai China, vol.1), Various artists, 2000, Lee

Discography

357

Leng Kok, Audio CD, LLK-15062000.

Zhongguo Shanghai sansishi niandai jueban mingqu er 中國上海三四十年代名曲

(二) (Deleted 30-40s hits of Shanghai China, vol.2), Various artists, 2000, Lee


Zhongguo Shanghai sansishi niandai jueban mingqu san 中國上海三四十年代名曲

(三) (Deleted 30-40s hits of Shanghai China, vol.3), Various artists, 2001, Lee


Zhongguo Shanghai sansishi niandai jueban mingqu si 中國上海三四十年代名曲(四)

(Deleted 30-40s hits of Shanghai China, vol.4), 2002, Lee Leng Kok, Audio CD,

LLK-11042002.

Zhongguo Shanghai sansishi niandai jueban mingqu wu 中國上海三四十年代名曲

(五) (Deleted 30-40s hits of Shanghai China, vol.5), 2003, Ancient Sound Restore,

Audio CD, ASR-28122003.

Zhongguo Shanghai sansishi niandai jueban mingqu liu 中國上海三四十年代名曲

(六) (Deleted 30-40s hits of Shanghai China, vol.6), 2004, Ancient Sound Restore,

Audio CD, ASR-01102004.

Zhongguo shidai qu qingge duichang 中國時代曲情歌對唱 (The love duets of

Chinese songs of the times), 2000, EMI (Malaysia), Audio CD, 7243 5 24277 27.

Zhongguo shidai qu qingge duichang vol.2 中國時代曲情歌對唱 vol.2 (The love

duets of Chinese songs of the times, vol.2), 2000, EMI (Malaysia), Audio CD,

7243 5 24278 26.

Zhongguo shidai qu qingge duichang vol.3 中國時代曲情歌對唱 vol.3, (The love

Discography

358

duets of Chinese songs of the times, vol.3), 2001, EMI (Malaysia), Audio CD,

7243 5 31660 21.

Zhou Xuan 周璇, Dongfang jingdian shuang CD xianliang zhencang ban – yi 東方經

典雙CD限量珍藏版—壹 (Classic of the Orient double CD collector’s limited

edition vol.1), 2001, EMI (Malaysia), 2 Audio CDs, 7243 5 37383 27.

—, Dongfang jingdian shuang CD xianliang zhencang ban – er 東方經典雙CD限量

珍藏版—貳 (Classic of the Orient double CD collector’s limited edition vol.2),

2001, EMI (Malaysia), 2 Audio CDs, 7243 5 37386 24.

—, Jinsangzi Zhou Xuan 金嗓子周璇 (The Golden Voice Zhou Xuan), 1985, China

Record Company (Shanghai), 2 cassettes, L-36 and 70.

—, Zhou Xuan 周璇 (Zhou Xuan), 1993, China Record Company (Shanghai), 4

cassettes, CL-51-4.

the music industry and popular song in 1930s...

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